


This Too Shall Pass

by transriot



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Background Relationships, Depression, Horror, M/M, Minor Pacifica Northwest/Mabel Pines, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Wirt is a depressed writer, wholesome sibling relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-02-11 16:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 74,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12939120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transriot/pseuds/transriot
Summary: Ten years ago on Halloween, Wirt and Greg fell into a lake. Brushing with death is bound to change a person, and attract things that shouldn't be there. In near desperation and despite reservations, an email further creates a bridge that was already unknowingly being built. Dipper Pines followed in his great uncle's footsteps. Unable to help himself, he looks further, researching anything. Helping where he can. Mysteries, curiosity, and the inevitable fight that has already been brought are all ready to be tackled and explored. They could only hope to stop whatever is happening before it happens, even if they're clueless and the tide is rising.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my work, buy me a coffee?

Wirt knew that it being the fall did not mean that he should let his room become a mess of books and notes. Seasonal changes were not an excuse for any of this. The book where he wrote down ideas and notes laid open on his coffee table, a drop of tea on the page that he had last looked at. Next to it were failed ideas for whatever it was he was attempting to write. Wirt was pretty sure there were rings on the wood of his coffee table now from the mug that had just been sitting there.

More than once Wirt had tripped over books meant for enjoyment, and he was pretty sure that he had lost things to the void (at this point Wirt was pretty sure that one half of a sock pair was lost under the couch forever, as well as a few pens that he probably accidentally stolen anyways). A book on gothic architecture had made him stub his toe pretty bad.

At least his room was decently clean. Decently. When his brother had come over, Greg looked at his bedroom where the mess had once been contained, and then at him before shaking his head and clicking his tongue in a way that Wirt wasn't sure if it was sarcastic or not, it tended to be hard to tell with him.It wasn’t as if Greg had much room to judge. His room, the last time that Wirt had been over, was full of miscellaneous items. Sheet music from the previous school year, a random instrument or two on his desk, art supplies everywhere. Wirt, at least, was able to walk around his house. It was just messy.

Wirt couldn’t find the inspiration to do anything though.With the humidity of the East Coast summer fading into fall, he had just elected to laying on the floor and staring up at his ceiling (Wirt had done the same thing during the summer, again, seasonal changes were not an excuse). His upstairs neighbors had been stomping around at night lately, which meant that this was basically an all day routine for him. In bed he would stare up at the ceiling, on the floor, on his couch after the other entertainments he had become boring.

He wished that he could say that he had better things to do than lay around in a cesspool of sweat — the weather hadn't caught up with the change of the seasons on most days, although it was beginning to cool down considerably — staring at nothing (even though his apartment complex was relatively new and he was lucky to even have central air, nothing could be perfect with air conditioners in New England — the superintendent had yet to fix his broken central air). And he did. But truthfully Wirt didn’t have any inspiration at all. Not to clean, or to write. His editor was beginning to get on him about that but it wasn’t as if Wirt had anything to write about.

When he was younger he could wax poetry for hours on end. Things would happen on the spot. It still was like that. But nothing he could come up with was good. It didn’t sound pretty enough, or it was weak and didn’t make any sense, or Wirt wasn’t able to get it to go anywhere in a negative way.

Wirt’s editor was breathing down his neck. Bluebird Publishers weren’t super strict when it came to time constraints but Wirt needed to at least vaguely follow the schedule that they had set for him for his most recent collection. Bea, his editor, understood his block but also made it clear that Wirt needed to do _something_. His phone was buzzing on the floor next to him and Wirt shifted to glance at it. For a moment he feared it was Bea calling him, but when he saw a familiar young and smiling face he relaxed a little bit. Greg was staring into the camera, his tongue out as he winked while wearing one of the ugliest shirts Wirt had ever laid eyes on. He stared at his brothers photo for a moment before accepting the call.

“Hi, Greg,” Wirt greeted him.

“Wiiiirt. Wirt. Wirt. Wirrrt,” Greg repeated his name in greeting. Wirt sat up slowly and stretched without ever leaving the floor. He felt sluggish. And gross. He should probably shower. When was the last time he had done that? (Last night. Wirt had showered last night since he was never able to sleep without showering first, even if he didn’t get good sleep). He stared at an empty mug of tea on his coffee table. He had showered recently he was sure.

“Greg,” Wirt stated, raising an eyebrow out of amusement although his younger brother couldn’t see it.

“How are you, Wirt?”

“I’m,” he looked around his apartment, which was messier than when Greg had last visited and realized that he wasn’t okay but he wasn’t sure what to tell his brother. “I’m fine. It’s hot, so I’m dying a little bit,” Wirt didn’t want to talk about his failures as an adult. “Is it that hot over back home? How are you? Have you been enjoying your classes?”

“It’s humid but it’s not super hot,” Greg answered. “I’m okay, I’m enjoying school so far, it’s been fun and I like my classes. But my academics aren’t really super important, let’s not focus on that,” his voice sounded a little nervous and he let out a laugh.

“You need to focus on school, Greg. You're going to be going to college after this year,” Wirt scolded him gently, brows furrowing.

“You’re not mom or dad, or my teachers. You can’t tell me what to do,” Wirt could practically hear Greg sticking his tongue out at him.

“But I’m your older brother, which gives me some authority,” he replied, standing up slowly. He tucked his phone in the space between his shoulder and ear. It was awkward but it would make due for now, he decided, until he was able to find his headphones. Wirt collected cups that were on his table and took them over to the kitchen.

“You don’t even live with us even more,” Greg whined on the other end.

“Gregory,” talking to his brother always made him feel a little bit better. He heard a stifled laugh on the other end. Feeling a little lighter he kept moving around his apartment.

“Oh beans. You brought out your brother voice,” Greg still sounded amused on the other end. He fell silent for a moment, which wasn't something Greg did unless he was getting serious. Wirt imagined the small frown on his face and how his doe eyes — a trait they both inherited from their mother, although Greg was always much softer seeming — would darken. “How have you been, Wirt?” It was different from earlier.

There was a tone in his voice that Wirt didn't really like. He didn't like it when Greg moved to be the leader. Wirt remembered once how he would have been annoyed at being the leader himself, but he learned that it was his job to be just that to Greg. “I've been okay,” he stated. “Struggling with my book but otherwise okay.”

Greg hummed on the other end. “Are you okay?” Wirt asked him, his own voice becoming softer. 

Another pause. “I've been thinking about it again. You know. The woods,” Greg sounded a little shaky. “I know. I know that logically nothing can touch us here. I know that now, but sometimes I just —”

“Think about it. Yeah, I do too,” Wirt still kept some of the details about their time in the Unknown hidden. He still made sure that Greg retained some innocence although he was nearing the age of eighteen and Wirt knew he should treat him more like an equal. But he felt that was one situation where he couldn't do that. He had to still protect Greg, keep him warm and safe. Something that Wirt had nearly failed to do.

“Sometimes I don't think what happened was real. It's blurry to me now, especially towards the end,” this was a conversation they had before. Wirt didn't mind talking about it but he wondered if Greg did.

While things were blurry for Greg who had been six years old at the time, and whose subconscious probably blocked out a good portion of it, Wirt remembered things well enough. It was a bit skewed since it had been from the perspective of a fifteen year old but it was still clear. “Sometimes I think it's fake too,” but then Wirt would see things out of the corners of his eyes he was positive he wasn't meant to see.

He had once sworn that there had been a black turtle next to an old lady at a bus stop one day. He blinked and the turtle was gone. Wirt told himself it had just been part of his imagination.

“But it wasn't, was it?” Greg asked, his voice reminding him of when they were lost in the woods. And Greg had been so little, and Wirt had been so _mean_. It was a miracle Greg and him got along now, even more a miracle that Greg trusted him.

“No, it wasn't,” Wirt paused what he was doing. His coffee table was clearer now, at the moment he was in the middle of folding his couch blankets even though they were in the middle of a heat wave. There was silence between the two of them, before Wirt spoke up again. “Wirt, you know things are okay now, right? The Beast can’t get us,” they wouldn’t become trees (Wirt remembered a weird mix of shame and relief when Greg had admitted that he had not been turning into an edelwood from the inside out, but rather that he had just been eating leaves). It had been ten years.

Greg was messing with something on the other line. He could hear little plops against water, and the sound of birds. Wirt wondered if he was at the lake where they had almost drowned. Probably throwing stones that were nearby. Or one of the several other lakes that were in Wirt’s hometown. He wondered if his own mood was so noticeable that his younger brother felt the urge to comfort him in the same way Wirt used to.

“I know that. But sometimes things don’t seem exactly normal. Like shadows and stuff,” Greg sounded small on the other end. Wirt felt his heart sink into his chest. He leaned against his counter.

“Greg. What do you mean?” He hoped, silently, that Greg wasn’t referring to what Wirt saw too.

“Nothing. It’s dumb,” Greg let out a slight laugh. It wasn’t his usual laugh and Wirt had the sudden longing to go home and make sure everything was okay with him. Greg was different from the innocent lost kid in the woods, but he still had the same gleam in his eyes now that he did then. Wirt hoped that wasn’t something would ever change.

Wirt pressed his lips together nervously.

_A beat of a butterfly's wings will change the simplest things_  
_Shifting the seas to the simplest breeze_

“What was that, Wirt?” Greg asked him on the other end, and Wirt startled, not realizing that he had spoken out loud.

“Just… just something that popped up. Nothing really,” Wirt replied. It hadn't sounded great.

“Struggling with the creative process?” Greg asked. Wirt responded with a dry mm-h-mm that made Greg click his tongue a little — a habit that he had gotten from their mother. “I’ll send you a charm then! I got some new stones and one of them is sodalite. It’s supposed to be good for writers, and I have bloodstone too which helps with mental blocks so maybe I’ll do something with those both,” Greg’s voice had returned to it’s normal perky tone. Wirt smiled a little bit.

“That’ll be nice, Greg. Thank you,” over the years Greg became more and more interested in rocks, both scientifically and spiritually. Even if Wirt wasn’t exactly the largest believer in those sorts of things, he never denied any gift from his brother having to do with the stones. There were several perched on his windowsills near his plants (which he needed to water; their soil had gone dry).

“Of course! Anything for you, brother o’ mine,” Greg’s smile was audible through the phone. “I should probably get going now. My phone is almost dead and mom said that I should be home before dinner tonight,” Wirt was able to hear Greg moving on the end. “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you later.”

“I love you,” Greg told him.

“I love you too, Greg,” his words were silent and sincere. Greg hung up the phone first. After a moment Wirt placed his phone down on his camera and looked around his house. From where he stood in the kitchen, he was able to see most of the living room. WIrt let out a heavy sigh when he stared at it. There was stuff all over the floor. Wirt began to move his body, forcing himself to pick things up like he had when he was talking to Greg. His apartment was a mess.

The conversation left him with a sudden burst of inspiration to actually be a bit of an adult and clean up — even if it was just a little. (Wirt showered too because he really needed one, and he had to admit it was nice to feel clean. Plus he had done it after doing the dishes, and it was even nicer not struggling in an effort to find something to eat with and on. Showering didn’t help very much with his inspiration, even if it did clear his mind. And when he opened the windows in his apartment, the air flow felt nice and helped him relax a little bit more.)  
▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

A package from Greg came in the mail a few days letter. A small necklace, not really Wirt’s style but he slipped it on anyways. A blue stone that looked like the night’s sky was on it, and a frog was wrapped around the stone, giving it a hug. It also came with a note, and a polaroid of their parents (that is, their mother and Wirt’s step father, Michael) and of whatever Greg found interesting enough.

Wirt placed these on his wall. When he stepped away and scanned the wall he couldn’t help but notice the little triangle formation of a shadow that had been cast. He didn’t think much of it. Whatever it was, it was probably due to the way the sun was filtering through his curtains.

The necklace was warm against his chest, where he had let it rest after tucking it under his shirt. His room felt better, so did his whole apartment even though there were shadows that still seemed to persist on creeping along his walls. Wirt sat on his couch that afternoon, ignoring the darkened corners as the sun set. An orange glow was formed on the walls, and every now and then he swore there was something _blinking_  at him.

Wirt ignored those. Instead he stared at the paper in front of him, pen in hand. He was chewing on the cap as he glared at the blank page in front of his face. He could smell the ink from his pen.

His phone kept buzzing with messages from his friends, and a few pictures from Gregory.

It was the afternoon and Wirt felt warm. His sweater was incredibly comfortable and he eventually just got distracted by his phone, rather than attempting to continue to write. It wasn't going anywhere for him. He shifted a little on his couch, watching a long conspiracy video that Greg had sent him. Apparently it had to do with a giant frog that was found in Massachusetts or at least, tended to go to Massachusetts. He had sent the video with a long stream of exclamation points. Wirt watched the video, the voice of the YouTuber eventually soothing him enough that he fell asleep, napping on the couch.  
▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

Leaves crunched underneath his feet. Wirt could smell wet earth from fall showers. He looked around, tall trees loom over him that were thick with golden leaves. He felt something catch in his throat, the scenery seeming all too familiar to him. How many times had he dreamt this? How many times was he stuck in a cold, misty forest with no way to get home? (There was always a way home, there always was even if Wirt himself didn’t know).

“Greg?” His voice came out warbly, as if he was still in the stages of puberty and not a fully grown man. He looked around, moving slowly through the forest. There was chill biting at his hands and his nose. The forest was greyer than he remembered, the leaves had been golden and red at least until the end. Despite the mistiness, Wirt knew that the forest had been a lovely one. Some of the journey had been fun, and it had been insightful. But this was a nightmare that Wirt had gone away, and something that he wished wasn’t going to happen again and again.

But there he was. Walking around the forest, stepping on leaves and hearing them crunch underneath his feet. “Greg?” He called out again.

_**yOu SEEm LosT kID** _

The voice startled him, and Wirt paused.

_**geTTing a BIt ROotEd in thE Past, eH?** _

“Wha- Who?” Wirt looked around.

_**dOnT woRRY abOuT me KiD, makE suRE you StAY aboVe tHe GrOund** _

Wirt looked down at his feet, watching the way that roots were slowly climbing up his legs, letting out a startled gasp and falling backwards. His cape fluttered a little and he felt his hat fall off his head. The sound of roots ripping from the ground made him scoot further away from where he had stood, dirt piling up from where he had pulled out his feet. Wirt reached down and unwrapped the roots from his legs.

_**BaBE in tHe woOds, lOSt aNd aLOne, yoUr broTHer went home yEt yOUre stILl buRieD iN thE leAves** _

The voice was high pitched, higher than what Wirt would expect. It was coming from all around him and Wirt noticed the shadows that were creeping in. He glanced around and saw a sign, stating that Pottsfield wasn’t far from where he sat. Wirt scrambled to his feet. He recognized his mismatched shoes, but realized he was no longer in his Halloween costume.

A one eyed bird fluttered onto a branch near him, it cocked its head to the side and chirped. Wirt didn’t recognize the bird, he wasn’t a bird watcher but it was still something he had never seen. “You should wake up now,” the bird told him, it’s voice sounded disconnected. It’s one eye blinked.  
▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

Wirt woke up with a sharp breath, feeling as if he had once again bursted out of cold water. His heart was beating in his chest, and his phone was buzzing against his face. Several text messages were going through at once. When he lifted it, he saw several were from Greg. A few were just random, and then Greg asking him if he was okay. As if some brotherly intuition told him that Wirt was having some sort of nightmare. Other texts didn’t make any sense, all from an unknown number. It seemed to be a list of random letters and numbers, as well as random symbols that Wirt didn’t even know was possible to make on the phone. Seeing the those messages made Wirt feel uncomfortable, but he didn’t click on them, electing to ignore them.

He sent a text to his brother that he was fine, before slowly getting off his couch. His body felt stiff, and he felt incredibly cold. A window was open and Wirt hadn’t remembered it being open before. Wirt closed it, instantly stopping the cold air from entering the room. Greg had sent him a video once he had responded that he was okay.

Wirt opened it, looking at the man who seemed to be his age. He was holding a small poster card, and he could hear a feminine voice in the background. The brown haired man in the video was speaking about how to guard your house against some sort of creature that he had never heard of before. Greg had texted him a paragraph underneath, stating that the man in the video was accepting questions andexplained how he was tempted to submit to him their experience in the past.

Which wasn’t odd, Greg was always searching for answers. Always wanting to know more. But not something that Wirt had been looking forward towards hearing (or was it reading, in this case?), but Wirt wrote him back, stating that he was interested in asking about something himself. Even if he didn't want Greg to search for the answers, Wirt still wanted them. There was a weird reservation when it came to Greg looking for the answers himself. 

He just felt as if he should. As if some cosmic push in the universe was telling him to write to this unknown man. Wirt looked at the channel name. Dipper Pines. Wirt felt as if that was familiar, where had he heard that before? Perhaps Greg had mentioned him before, since he was more into this type of stuff than Wirt was.

Wirt didn’t recognize the man’s face at all. The name, yes, but not the face or even the voice. Wirt felt as if he should have recognized him. The video was a bit shaky, at least the one Wirt was watching was since the man was running from something Wirt couldn’t really see. When he clicked onto the actual channel, he saw that the videos seemed to go on for forever. Clearly the man had been making these videos for a long time, apparently since he was in his pre-teens. There still wasn’t a connection to Wirt past the odd name (was Dipper his real name? Or just some sort of nickname?).

However.

Despite the unfamiliarity, Wirt still clicked on his email. Wirt felt childish as he began to type up an email.

Childish, yes, but still urged and impulsed to do something he normally wouldn’t. Wirt chewed his lower lip, looking down at his phone as he clicked send.

Hopefully he wasn’t written off. Greg kept sending him confetti, and unopened text messages seemed to be mocking him.  
▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

“You actually emailed him? So help me Wirt, if you’re back on your bullshit...” Wirt couldn’t help but bury his hands in his hair, nodding his head. Sara raised her eyebrow at him, a small smile that kept appearing on her face only for her to school her expression again.

“I knowww. I feel dumb, and my what!?” Wirt felt like he was a teenage again. Instead of waiting for Sara or for someone else to answer him, he instead was waiting for another fully grown man who chased around supernatural beings for a living. “I wrote because Greg was going to? But it’s dumb right?” Wirt shifted a little bit.

“First, stop moving your computer I can hear it and it sounds like someone is sneezing,” Sara pinched her brows together, Wirt stopped fidgeting and her features relaxed. “Second, you’ve never really told me what exactly happened with you and Greg. Yeah, your frog used to glow but honestly? You never went into depth. Are you sure that you just sent the email to prove that you’re just… I don’t know. Not paranoid or something?” Sara was treading carefully with her words.

“I don’t know Sara. I’m not a fan of supernatural stuff, it’s weird,” Wirt scratched the back of his neck. God he felt like he was a teen again for sure, talking to Sarah at the moment was making his hands sweat. Not for the same reasons that they used to. But still.

“I am,” Sara told him, almost firmly. “You could be experiencing stuff, or maybe your anxiety is making you think that you’re experiencing stuff. Either way, you still emailed him because your baby brother wanted to and that’s adorable,” Sara grinned at him. Her face had become thinner since they were younger, her hair still relatively short although it was pinned out of her face. There was some sweat on her brow from marching band practice. Before she had been recounting to Wirt how difficult some of the new color guards were being, and how the drum line kept fooling around before a major competition. Even if she was the one conducting it, it still seemed like a lot of work.

“Maybe you also wrote to him since you thought he was cute? I looked him up. He’s definitely your type,” Sara wiggled her brows a bit.

Wirt felt his cheeks flush despite himself, letting out a light and airy laugh. “I don’t have a type, you know this. I don't like labels and types are a label.”

She shrugged her shoulders, “Whatever you say, Wirt.” Wirt let out a sigh at her statement, seeing that there was still a smile attempting to break through on her face.

“Sara, I --” a small notification on his laptop screen appeared. Wirt felt his mouth go a little dry when he read it.

“Did he email you back?” Sara asked him, no doubt reading his expression.

“Yeah, he did.”

“Well, read it then. I need to shower anyways. So text me about it? Or I can call you again later?” Sara suggested. She always made the first call. Wirt was inept over the phone or his laptop, and he just didn’t like using technology (so he was a little inept, so what? The only reason why he had such nice pieces of technology in the first place was unknown even to him since he had no idea how to use the actual fancy parts of it). Plus Wirt always felt like he would be bothering her since she was the one with an actual scheduled job who actually went outside.

“Okay,” Wirt agreed, nodding his head. “I’ll text you later.”

“Have fun, Wirt,” Sara smiled at him before hanging up the call. Wirt let out another sigh, before opening up the email. For a moment he just stared at Dipper Pines’ email itself, rather than reading the contents that it held.

pinesdipper@gmail.com  
RE: A Possibly Odd Question

Wirt Byers,

Thank you for writing me about the phenomena that you’ve witnessed. Do you have anymore details about the Unknown (an odd name, but seems to fit it)? I’ve heard other people mention similar places but no one has ever actually told me anything of value. Does your brother remember everything the same way? (I imagine that he doesn’t, since the age difference you describe can mean that he has a different story. But I don’t know either of you guys so who’s to say?)

It doesn’t surprise me that you see things. A lot of people who’ve experienced near death see things! Even people who haven’t do.

I’m actually going to be in Massachusetts soon, if you’re interested in meeting up? We can talk more about what exactly you’re seeing. And if you feel comfortable enough, you can tell me more about the Unknown?

Thanks,  
Dipper Pines

Wirt had to wonder why he was going to be in Massachusetts, but it was probably due to some supernatural thing that Wirt had no idea about. Massachusetts was an old state. Everyone knew that, and sometimes whenever Wirt walked around something felt weird in his chest. Or he needed to blink twice, thinking that he had seen something in front of him. Not really ghosts. Wirt wasn’t sure if he even _believed_  in ghosts. Sometimes the things people said sounded like a stretch. Yes, the state was haunting in it's history. It didn't mean that there were ghost everywhere.

It was an old place. He had lived there his entire life, used to Puritan grave stones and gimmicky things about Salem. Wirt found beauty in the history and the haunts, but he didn't obsess over it.

Yet here he was, staring at an email from a man who did obsess over it. Who searched for it -- whatever _it_ was -- for a living.

His fingers hovered over his keyboard for a moment, before he typed up his response. Wirt sent an email in reply, adding his number as well since he imagined that it would be faster to communicate that way. As soon as he sent the email, he wondered if placing his number in there had been a bad decision. Wirt hoped not.

Oh god.


	2. Two

Dipper hadn’t meant to become his Grunkle Ford when he grew up.

It was probably something that he couldn’t truly avoid (most things, if not everything were avoidable). For example, his terrible vision and the need for glasses (he wasn’t the only stuck with this bad luck, but Mabel seemed to enjoy wearing glasses). It seemed to be a hereditary disposition that one twin from the Pines family was going to end up doing something research related. Research naturally led to him traveling a lot, and even though when they were younger and separation had hurt them, Mabel encouraged him to travel for his research. Of course, he missed her terribly, still living in each other’s back pockets, as Pacifica liked to say.

They saw each other often. Both Pines twins 2.0 decided to stay in Oregon. While Mabel lived with Pacifica, making a domestic home with the other, Dipper lived on his own. Soos and Melody had outgrown the house that the Mystery Shack connected to. Both were more than happy to let Dipper stay there as it technically belonged to the family still. Dipper let Soos take care of the shop with Melody and their children, and he added in the occasional exhibit. Dipper gave tours, he helped explain things. While he didn’t own the Mystery Shack, it didn’t mean that Dipper was going to abandon it completely. Plus he was sure that if he didn’t work in it, there was no way he would be able to stay away from it since it was a part of his family, and him.

Most of his research was still along the West Coast. Dipper traveled, he didn’t travel for very long since he couldn’t afford that much. Dipper enjoyed the travel, he enjoyed the things that he learned when he went around the world. Dipper felt traveling was necessary. He wasn’t just tracking Weirdness, he was helping people along the way who were struggling; plus he couldn’t really study Weirdness to the fullest extent if he didn’t witness it in different areas. It was a win-win. Dipper made sure that people were safe, and knew how to handle anything weird carefully which meant making sure creatures weren’t harmed unless that was the only way. Sometimes they were featured in a video if they were okay with it. And Dipper was able to write information down in his journals.

There were only two journals so far, not including the original three that were passed down. They were relatively thick in their width since Dipper would write as much as he could into one then moved onto another. His third journal was still being written. Sometimes Dipper feared that he would disappear similar to his Grunkle Ford. But Dipper knew better, his hubris not as large as his Grunkle’s had been at this age, and he had items to protect him.

Dipper’s room was a mess. His workshop was a mess too. But his journals were neat. He tried to avoid ink smudging in his book, so Dipper cursed when there was blue ink on the side of his hand and on the margin of the journal.

Dipper rubbed the bridge of his nose, his glasses pushed up to his hairline as he glared down at the information in front of him. He shifted a little and they fell back to where they belonged, making it easier for him to read. The blue ink stayed on his hand, Dipper not caring much for it as he read.

He had managed to snag onto a trail, that seemed to be leading him towards New England. The phenomena weren’t localized to there, but it seemed to have a pattern it went on and in this trend, Dipper was able to track it down to the other side of the country. He had been there a few times before in order to study Salem and the rift there. New England was a hot spot for all things paranormal. It was full Weirdness similar to Gravity Falls but not to the same degree — Dipper didn’t think he would ever find why Gravity Falls was so weird but he still wanted to try anyway.

There was loud thumping music coming from above him, Mabel had decided to go out on the roof with Pacifica during her visit. The shop was closed, the disturbance not being large. It was some pop song that Dipper fought the urge to hum along with. It was just catchy, and it wasn’t his fault, okay?

“Baby you’re like lightning in a bottle, I can’t let you go now that I got it,” Dipper gave into the urge to sing along. Attempting to reach the falsetto of the song and his voice failing, sounding closer to a screaming cat than a singer.

A ping from his phone made him trail off in the lyrics and he leaned back in his chair, tipping as he read the message. It was an email from a man who had contacted him. His name was Wirt, wasn’t it? What he had talked about in the email had been pretty interesting and Dipper felt that it was following his trail. Strange shadows being seen by people who had nearly experienced death, and the Unknown had been mentioned in documents he had read before. Dipper wanted to know more about it, as much as he could. And Wirt seemed to know a decent amount.

Dipper opened the email, reading it with furrowed brows as he chewed on a pen.

Dipper Pines,

Thank you for writing back to me. If you want, I’ll tell you as much as I can remember about my experience in the Unknown. You mentioned that you’re going to Massachusetts and would like to meet up. I figure it would be easier for you to just text me plans rather than emailing back and forth.

My number is: (351) 867-5309

Thank you,  
Wirt Byers

The email was brief in comparison to the first one that Wirt had sent. Dipper clicked on his number, creating a new message on his phone and sending Wirt a quick text. He had already bought a plane ticket for Massachusetts, not hesitating when it came to doing that. He sent Wirt the information of when he would arrive, asking him where the two of them should meet up with a small note to who he was.

Dipper’s chair tipped back, and he fell down onto the ground with a clattering sound. The music above him had stopped sometime between him reading the email and falling. His pen had fallen out of his mouth and landed someplace near his head. “Dipper?!” Mabel yelled down at him, “Are you okay down there?!”

“I’m fine!” he got off the floor, standing up and wincing at the ache in his lower back. Whatever Pacifica said was drowned out by the music that had started back up. Dipper righted the chair, running a hand through his hair. He needed to finish packing, and he crawled over to his suitcase to finish up. Pacifica had a private jet that he could use, but that was only for emergencies. And some sadistic part of him liked airports.

He wasn’t sure how long he would be in Massachusetts, as long as got whatever it was he was looking for. A part of Dipper didn’t think it was just information on the place that was in between, there was something else pulling him there. Dipper needed to follow it and figure out what sort of Weirdness was creating such a magnetic feeling). So he packed the bare essentials of what he needed and booked his flight.

It was great that he had always had an available ride to the airport when he needed one (be it Mabel, Pacifica, himself, or sometimes just a cab), and tickets were so easy to purchase.

The flight itself had only been about five hours, which wasn’t the longest one that he had ever been on. Still, Dipper had a crook in his neck by the time he arrived in Massachusetts. The airport had been too cold for the fall weather that was outside, feeling weirdly fake and unreal as all airports do.  
It was late morning and Dipper squinted as he glanced around for the person who had called him there. There was no way of Dipper knowing how the man had looked since he didn’t seem to exist on social media (a true hermit). Worried that he might have sent him to the wrong gate number, he pulled out his phone. He glanced down at it, pulling the device up to his face so that he could read the numbers without a bit of fuzz making it harder when he heard someone walk in front of him.

“Mr. Pines?” The voice was unsure of itself, and when Dipper looked up he felt that it matched the person in their posture.

“You can just call me Dipper, I’m guessing you’re Wirt?” Dipper sent him a smile, shaking Wirt’s hand.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m Wirt. It’s nice to meet you,” Wirt was taller than Dipper thought he would have been — Dipper had always been short, while Mabel had always been considered tall. He had dark brown hair and darker eyes, his skin a bit paler than Dipper’s and less covered in freckles (from what Dipper could see, considering that his vision was currently blurry). Dipper thought that he dressed like a librarian, with sharp features that were handsome. His face became more friendly when you noticed his shoes were mismatched, and his hair looked like there was an effort to put it down but it resisted and gave him a look of bedhead.

“Do you have everything you need?” Wirt asked him, pulling his hand away and placing them in his pockets.

“Yeah, I do. Did you drive? I thought you didn’t live close to Boston?” Dipper looked up at him.

“It’s only about an hour. Take or lose some time,” Wirt shrugged his shoulders.

Dipper nodded, letting out a noise of understanding. Wirt glanced towards his suitcase and moved as if he was considering helping. Dipper just pulled it a little closer to himself and gave him a smile with a shake of his head. The air between the two of them wasn’t easy but Dipper figured it’ll get better with time.

They stepped outside of the airport and Dipper squinted against the sun, used to artificial lights.

“Are you hungry?” Wirt asked him, and Dipper’s eyes caught on something silver on Wirt’s chest. “I figured we can get lunch once you settle in.”

“That sounds fine to me. I can buy.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you’re a guest and —”

“Dude,” Dipper clapped Wirt on the shoulder. “You’re already picking me up from the airport. And you helped me find a place to stay. Granted, it probably wouldn’t have been hard for me to find a place to stay but you somehow managed to find a nice one when all I could find were not-so-great hotels. Least I can do is buy you some food.”

Wirt smiled at him and Dipper thought it was a lovely smile. “Alright, do you have any idea of where’d you like to go?”

“Any nice diners that you know?”

Wirt paused for a moment as he thought about it, and Dipper noticed that he wrinkled his nose when he did. “I think I know a place you might like,” he gave Dipper a very small and shy smile.

“Lead the way,” Dipper climbed into the passenger seat of Wirt’s car.

Wirt started it up and began to drive. Dipper had been to Massachusetts once. He hardly ever explored the East Coast, sticking mainly to the West. He supposed that there was a major flaw in that logic since it left him limited in his opportunities and experiences. He glanced out at the window at the scenery as they drove. The highway was relatively boring but it got a lot more interesting once Wirt drove into the city itself. Dipper’s hotel wasn’t very far away from the airport, but it wasn’t super close either. It seemed to be halfway and it was nice, but Dipper doubted he would bother with the amenities he had.

Dipper stared at the city as it passed by. It was much older than where he grew up, and it was older than Gravity Falls for sure in terms of when it was established. There had been so much that had happened in Boston alone. Dipper tried to smother the bit of excitement he felt at just being in a new place with new things to be uncovered.

“So you’ve lived here your entire life?” Dipper turned to Wirt, a little more enraptured by the sight of his tongue poking out of his mouth as he focused on driving. Wirt looked a little surprised, his eyebrows rising and he turned the music that had been playing down a little more.

“Yeah. I was born and raised in a pretty small town on Assawompset Pond,” Wirt took a slow turn and Dipper thought that the city had managed to find a nice balance between old-fashioned and modern. “My brother is the same too. I went to Boston University, but I moved in a place that’s a little closer to my hometown. I guess I’m more attached to it than I thought despite wanting to leave so much when I was younger. Well, I would’ve stayed in Boston but the rent is expensive and there’s only so much that you make as a writer and —” Wirt cut himself off suddenly. “I’m… I’m rambling, aren’t I?” A sheepish smile made his way on his face, Wirt’s face turning into a light flush.

Dipper waved his hand casually, “Just a bit. I don’t mind.”

“I didn’t mean to talk so much. Sorry,” Wirt was pulling into a parking lot now.

Dipper shrugged his shoulders, “It’s fine. I tend to ramble too.” He hadn’t mind, even if it just was such a casual thing. Dipper knew that he had to learn about Wirt in order to help him, and he would be lying if he didn’t say he wasn’t interested in the other. So far, Wirt seemed nothing short of normal. But Dipper felt a sort of burning question in his chest about the other man, and he just wanted to know _more_.

“Is this the diner?” He raised an eyebrow once Wirt turned off the car.

“Yeah, it is,” Wirt looked over at him. “Hopefully you like it. Whenever my brother is in town we go here.

Dipper climbed out of the car, grateful to stretch his legs. Wirt got out too, locking the car after patting down his pockets. ”Does your brother visit often?“

”As often as he can, anyways,“ Wirt answered. ”He’s still in school so it’s not very often,“ he led Dipper into the dinner, a small bell above them dinged.

”How old is your brother?“

”You ask a lot of questions,“ Wirt let out an awkward laugh, a hostess was leading the two of them over to a table.

He slid into the booth easily. The diner was cleaner the Greasy’s back at Gravity Falls, but it had a homey feeling that made Dipper feel reassured. ”Being complete strangers doesn’t sound fun, and we’re going to get to know each other anyway. And since whatever is happening is around you, it’s best to get to know you,“ Dipper waved his hands as he spoke.

”Oh, okay. That makes sense,“ Wirt tapped his fingers on the table. Of course, that would make sense, Wirt felt a bit silly after asking that. ”Greg’s seventeen, he’s a senior in high school,“ Wirt informed Dipper. Greg was barely two years older than Wirt had been when they had fallen into the pond. That had been ten years ago. Wirt felt stupid that it was affecting him to this day.

Dipper hummed a little bit, tapping his fingers against his face. ”And you’re twenty-five, right? Greg was seven years old when you two —“

”Fell into the pond, yeah,“ Wirt cut him off. He felt his cheeks flush with his own abruptness, but Wirt didn’t like talking about it or hearing it from others. Dipper seemed to take the hint, deciding not to push the topic further. Not right now anyway, they were going to have to talk about it sometime.

”What do you recommend here?“ The change of subject was easy, and Wirt looked relieved at how Dipper didn’t bat an eye at it.

”Um, well I usually just get the BLT. But my brother Greg likes the chocolate chip waffles, and I have a friend who enjoys their “kitchen sink” skillet which is basically just a bunch of breakfast foods together. It’s a lot more appetizing than how I make it sound,“ Wirt scratched the back of his neck.

Dipper glanced down at the menu quickly and hummed. ”The kitchen sink thing doesn’t sound too bad,“ he leaned on the table and looked at Wirt, who seemed to move further away when he just moved a leaned in a bit closer.

The waiter stopped in front of their table smiling brightly at them. ”Hi! My name is Quincy. Any idea of what you guys would like to drink today?“ It was almost jarring how excited they sound.

”Just water is fine for me,“ Dipper smiled back.

”I’ll take hot black tea, thank you,“ Wirt gave a very small smile.

”We’re ready to order too if you don’t mind,“ Dipper spoke up before the waiter could leave.

”Of course!“ The waiter was bright, grinning with almost too many teeth in Dipper’s opinion. Their eyes seemed too bright. Dipper stared at them, and then glanced at Wirt. He gestured his head towards the waiter, letting Wirt go first. At the thought, Wirt flushed a little, playing with his fingers.

”Oh! Um. A BLT is fine for me, thanks,“ Wirt gave another small smile to the waiter. Shrinking back almost. Dipper was unsure if that was his personality (he had seemed okay in the car, hesitant still, but less so than here). Or the fact that they had too large of a smile their eyes seemed too bright, an orange gleam in them. Their ears were pointed, Dipper noted, at the top. When they looked at him, their eyes met and he mustered up his most charming smile.

”I’ll take the Kitchen Skillet, thank you,“ odd waiter or not, Dipper was still going to order his food. The waiter wrote down their orders, a wide grin still on their face.

”Anything else for you, gentlemen?“

Wirt looked at Dipper, raising his brow and DIpper shook his head. Wirt then turned towards the waiter, giving them a polite smile, ”We’re good. Thank you.“

Quincy nodded their head, stating that their food and drinks should be right out before turning, leaving them. Wirt watched them leave before he looked at Dipper again. Dipper caught the flash of something silver around his neck.

”Are you wearing a necklace?“ Dipper asked him, and Wirt nodded his head.

He tugged the necklace out of his shirt, holding the little charm between his fingers. ”Yeah. My brother gave it to me. He likes stones and stuff and got into jewelry making. He made this for me because it’s supposed to help writers and I think other creative things. It’s not really my style but it’s nice,“ Wirt looked at Dipper.

”Why the frog? Any symbolism there?“ Dipper thought that it was a cute sort of charm. ”And I get the not really your style thing. When my sister was first learning how to knit I just accepted all of the things she made for me,“ he shrugged his shoulders. ”She’s better now, most if not all of my sweaters come from her.“

”Does she make sweaters for a living?“

”It used to be a hobby but yeah, she’s in the fashion business now,“ their server came back, placing their drinks down and stating their food should be right out before leaving after they both gave their thanks. There was a small lull in the conversation, Wirt putting sugar in his tea. ”So, the frog?“ Dipper pointed towards his neck to indicate the necklace, starting up the conversation.

”Oh! There’s nothing super symbolic. We used to have a frog. Jason Funderburker, we got him that Halloween. Frogs are still Greg’s favorite animal, and they’re sort of important to us both so yeah. Frog charm,“ Wirt fiddled with the stone between his fingers a bit.

”It’s nice,“ Dipper complimented.

Wirt smiled at him, a look of pride on his face. ”I’ll make sure to tell him you said that,“ Wirt said as he fiddled around with the necklace some more before dropping it, letting it go back underneath his sweater. ”He watches your videos. Greg is actually the reason that I emailed you, he’s the one who is always searching for answers.“ Dipper wasn’t surprised by that statement. Wirt didn’t seem too keen on the idea of the supernatural. While Dipper understood not wanting to talk about the Unknown in public, there was still an obvious hesitation from Wirt in general when it came to it all.

”Would it be cocky for me to be proud of that?“ Dipper asked, giving Wirt a proud grin.

”I think you have right to be. I would be a bit proud if someone told me they liked my work, so I imagine it’s the same for you,“ Wirt answered honestly. He gave Dipper a grin as well, a bit more restrained than Dipper’s own.

”You did mention you’re a writer earlier. What do you write exactly?“

”Oh, um. I write poetry,“ a slight tint developed to Wirt’s cheeks when he said that. ”I’ve been into poetry since I was a kid. I write short stories too but nothing super major. Prose really isn’t my style though, so I mainly just stick to the poetry. But I like reading prose especially classics.“

”You seem like you could be a good teacher, with your interests. I didn’t really like English teachers growing up, but it’s mainly since they didn’t like me,“ Dipper raised a brow, a small smirk on his face.

Wirt seemed amused by that, ”Were you the type of kid who would ask questions and distract the rest of the class?“

”Oh yeah, totally.“

”I hated kids like you,“ there was no malice in Wirt’s tone. A smile was on his face, a bit wider now.

”Listen, reading is fun and literature is amazing. But sometimes the curtain is just blue. It’s not always a metaphor for the sadness of the author. I mean Oscar Wilde? Full of symbolism. That doesn’t mean that every little thing he writes is symbolic of something,“ Dipper rolled his eyes, there was a smile still on his face. ”I did like the research aspect of English class, I liked science for that reason too.“

Wirt laughed a little bit, his nose wrinkling when he did. Dipper thought it was endearing. ”You do have something there. But I think English class was fun if you got the right teacher. Classroom discussions were the best if there weren’t kids like you,“ he teased Dipper. ”The research makes sense, especially considering what you do.“

Dipper nodded his head in agreement, ”Researching and hunting for answers, even if it seems like something that’s ridiculous to research is my thing. There’s just so much out there in the world. There’s no way that you can know everything. The way that the world works is something that we’re still figuring out, there are hidden secrets everywhere if you look close enough.“ Dipper moved whenever he spoke, gesturing with his hands. His sleeves moved when he did, and Wirt noticed a bit of ink beginning at the cuff of Dipper’s right wrist. ”Someone is always hiding something. There is always something to discover, you know?“

Fixated on him, Wirt just watched the way Dipper talked. ”Did you get into your current research on your own?“ Wirt wasn’t sure how to phrase it.

”Kinda. When I was younger I fancied myself a bit of a conspiracy theorist, I was always trying to find things to look into but it wasn’t any super fancy. I was a nerd. I still am but when I was younger I was extra nerdy. I would read anything I can about things that seemed odd, or adventure stories,“ Wirt felt that there was more to the story and he looked at Dipper, silently encouraging him to continue. Dipper did without much hesitance, ”When my sister and I were twelve our parents shipped us out for the summer to our Grunkle Stan’s house —“

”Grunkle?“ Wirt interrupted.

”Great Uncle,“ Dipper explained. ”Grunkle Stan used to run this thing called the Mystery Shack. It’s being run by family friends right now, basically family but I still go there time to time. The Mystery Shack is a tourist trap if there ever was one,“ a fond, nostalgic expression was on Dipper’s face now. ”It was gross, and we had to work there but it was fun.“ Wirt didn’t have the heart to tell Dipper that he was going off topic, still interested in what he was saying.

”I was hanging up signs in the woods one day and I stumbled on a journal. At this point, I was pretty much hyper-aware of everything in Gravity Falls. There’s a bunch of weird things there, my Grunkle Ford actually used to study the Weirdness and he was a mentor to me growing up. Back to the story, there was a bunch of things that seemed off to me in Gravity Falls but nothing was confirmed until I found the journal. And then to confirm things, even more, my sister dated a guy who was made up of gnomes,“ Dipper rolled his eyes at the memory. ”They wanted her to their gnome queen which meant that she had to marry all of them. And there were a lot of them too but we found out that a leaf blower was their weakness. We still run into them every now and then, along with a boy band that lives in the woods a few other people and things we know.“

Dipper shrugged his shoulders at the end, not finding anything odd about what he said since it was his normal after all.

Wirt blinked a bit, processing what Dipper said. There hadn’t been a whole lot of detail in the story but there had been enough. ”Gravity Falls sounds like an odd place,“ he commented.

”It is. But it’s home,“ Dipper said fondly, adjusting the ballcap on the top of his head.

”I understand that sentiment,“ Wirt was a romantic at heart, knowing full well of the call of home. ”So you just continued looking into things?“

Their server, Quincy, came back with two plates of food in their hands. They dropped the plates gently in front of them respectively. Wirt gave them a smile, again both mumbling their thanks and denying anything else from the server who nodded their head and left them to their own devices. Dipper looked at the food for a moment, the two of them began to eat the food in front of them. Dipper was starving. He hadn’t eaten since the day before and he couldn’t really remember what time he had eaten. There was another lull in the conversation before Dipper picked it up again.

He looked at Wirt, who in comparison to Dipper was picking at his food. ”When I was younger I used to make these videos. Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained, which I mean I still call my videos today. I sort of picked up at where my Grunkle Ford left off, minus a few things, and updated a few things too. I didn’t really find any reason to stop what I was doing. I enjoyed it, and I still do,“ Dipper answered.

”Do you only make videos?“ Wirt asked him. ”Documentation wise is that the only thing you release to the public?“ He elaborated on what he meant, ”I imagine you write your own things.“

Dipper scratched his chin, ”Yeah I don’t really release my own research. I do have articles and essays I write but nothing super hardcore. I don’t want to hide my information, I just know that if I wanted to publish it that it would have to go underneath fiction.“ And there were things that Dipper had research and discovered that he didn’t want anyone else to know about. There were things that could be dangerous for people to know.

Wirt took in the information, nodding his head. ”You’re a lot more interesting than I am,“ he laughed softly, but his nose didn’t wrinkle much to Dipper’s disappointment. It didn’t sound the same.

Dipper shrugged his shoulders. ”I think you’re plenty interesting,“ he admitted, ”Poets are always interesting.“

Wirt stared at his sandwich for a moment and then looked at Dipper. ”Thank you,“ he seemed a little unsure what to say to that. There was another moment which was fine by Dipper who was eating before Wirt spoke up again.

”Do you want me to drive you to your hotel after this?“

”That sounds like a good idea. Do you mind coming along with me? I want to talk, know a little bit more about your experiences. If you’re okay with it,“ Dipper had no idea if Wirt had anything to do after they finished eating. He also needed to know more information than what Wirt had given him. Since all that Wirt had given him that far were the basics.

The invitation didn’t startle Wirt although he did shift in his chair. ”I’m going to have to tell you eventually, aren’t I? It’s what you’re here for. I don’t have anything to do after this,“ Wirt agreed to stick with him. Dipper smiled a little bit at hearing that.

The two of them finished up eating, Dipper paying despite Wirt still protesting against it. They climbed back into Wirt’s car and towards Dipper’s hotel. Dipper didn’t wait very long until he started to question Wirt.

”Are you okay with telling me everything?“ Dipper asked him.

Wirt flipped up the blinker of the car, turning right into the road where Dipper’s hotel was along. ”Anything to get some information, right?“ Wirt replied.

Dipper considered what Wirt said and nodded his head. He would think something along those lines if it were him. The two of them reached the hotel, making casual conversation on their way up to the room. Once they were up there, Dipper shrugged off his jacket and pushed up his sleeves. ”Stay right there,“ Dipper told Wirt who stood a bit in the room, looking unsure of himself there.

He ran to his room, grabbing a notebook and something to write down with. He sat down on the couch and looked at Dipper before tapping the spot next to him. ”Tell me all that you can about your experience in the Unknown,“ Dipper looked at Wirt, his face full of interest. ”Best to start from the beginning.“

”Right,“ Wirt nodded his head, fiddling with his fingers. ”The… the beginning,“ he started. Dipper waited patiently next to him, pen waiting. It took Wirt a few moments, and then he began to talk. Despite the occasional stutter, and not looking at Dipper, he spoke with a flare that Dipper hung onto. It wasn’t hard to listen to Wirt speak, and Dipper didn’t want to miss the details of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for disappearing for so long! finals seasons started, and then the holidays meaning i didnt do anything. but now im back in school and strangely more willing to stick to a schedule so here we are!
> 
> Happy New Year!!!
> 
> trans-riot.tumblr.com  
> electricpurity on instagram


	3. Three

Hotel couches generally felt weird. The one that Dipper had made Wirt sink into it just a little bit. It was a nice hotel, not that the quality of the couch determined that factor. It was just because so many people had sat in it before that it couldn’t help but make Wirt sink just slightly. Dipper had a notebook and pen prepared, clicking it every now and then as he stared at Wirt. Waiting for him to begin. Wirt had to appreciate the amount of attention he seemed to be wanting to give all of this. Even though the attention on him did make him uncomfortable.

“So, it was Halloween and I was fifteen, Greg was seven. He’s a spring child but that’s beside the point. I didn’t want to go trick-or-treating or go frog hunting with Greg. But, um, I left the house to give a mixtape to my friend who I had a crush on named Sarah. Some mishaps ended up happening and I wanted it back.” Wirt was skimming over details, what led up to everything didn’t matter as much as what happened when they got into the Unknown. “Long story short, we ended up in the local cemetery. Eternal Garden Cemetery. The police were chasing after us -- it ended up being that they were just trying to play a joke on us -- Greg and I climbed over the cemetery wall. It was dumb of us, but I was stupid back then, and not the best of brothers so,” Wirt scratched the back of his neck, feeling sheepish and ashamed of how he used to be.

“We ended up on the train tracks. And well, train tracks are used for trains, so a train was heading towards us. We ended up rolling down the hillside and landing in the local lake. We almost drowned. We couldn’t have been in there for more than a few minutes but in the Unknown time passes differently.”

Dipper furrowed his eyebrows. “How long were you in the Unknown?”

“A few days at most. I think about three? I don’t really know for sure,” Wirt answered. “Most of it kind of blurs together. But I remember that we were trying to find our way home. Greg and I sort of remember the events differently too. He might be able to remember how long we spent in there but the way he tells the stories and the way I tell them line up chronologically, but his descriptions make it seem more fairytale like. Like, Disney fairytale while I’m more on the Grimm side of things,” Wirt fiddled with his necklace at the mention of Greg. Dipper’s eyes seemed to track his hands. “Real-time wise we were there for a few minutes, five tops.”

“What do you mean by that?” Dipper asked for clarification.

“All of my memories of the Unknown are terrifying in comparison to Greg’s. He remembers the scary parts too but for him, it was almost like a game. For me it was terrifying throughout the entire adventure,” Wirt explained. “Not-- Not that there weren’t any fun parts about it. Beatrice was pretty nice, even though she did betray us at one point.”

“Beatrice?”

“She was a girl. I found her family’s gravestone in the cemetery after we got home. When we met her, she was a bluebird, so I never actually saw her in her human form. She lied and said she was going to help us find our way home, but she gave us up to this woman called Adelaide. She was a witch who wanted children for slavery I think. Beatrice traded us in to get these scissors that would’ve turned her and her family back to humans again. We eventually reconciled, and I gave her the scissors, and despite her... betrayal I still think of her as a friend. I mean sure she tried to sell my brother and I into slavery to some witch, but bygones are bygones,” Wirt let out a small laugh of slight embarrassment.

Dipper stared at him for a moment. Wirt wondered if he was going to say something about the whole Beatrice incident. “So, wait, you found her gravestone?”

Wirt nodded his head. “Her and her entire family. Also, Endicott’s grave too,” at Dipper’s expression he explained further, “Rich old guy who thought his mansion was haunted. Turns out his mansion was so big it was built into someone else's mansion. They ended up getting married. We pretended to be their nephews while Beatrice and Fred tried to rob him.”

“Wait, who’s Fred?”

“Talking horse that we stole from the Highwayman,” Wirt answered. “There was a lot that happened. A lot,” he sighed, feeling exhausted at just the memory of everything that he and Greg had gone through. The Unknown terrified him. Still, there were parts of it that hadn’t been too bad.

Dipper smiled a little bit. “So, the Unknown wasn’t entirely terrible?”

“No, not all the way. I’m pretty sure it’s some sort of limbo between everything. It’s not a place where everything is evil. Most of the darkness came from the Beast,” thinking about the Beast made him feel like he was 15 all over again. Nearly dying got rid of everything that was joyous about the Unknown. The singing frogs, the songs that Greg made, anything else that seemed to be fun was ruined by Greg almost turning into a tree.

Wirt felt like he was a bit in a therapist's office when Dipper clicked his pen again. His face was more intense, and he stared at Wirt. “Tell me about the Beast,” Dipper told him. Wirt felt a bit uncomfortable by his intense stare, he seemed to be trying to read Wirt.

“Um, well. He was attached to this lantern, I don’t know where he got it from. It had his soul in it but the only type of oil that worked for it came from Edelwood trees. They don’t exist anywhere but the Unknown, I’ve looked it up to make sure there wasn’t any chance of what happened in the Unknown to happen back home. The trees were… made from children, lost souls of children to be completely clear,” Wirt cleared his throat. It felt thick. “Greg almost got turned into one because of me being an idiot.”

Dipper was silent for a moment, “You don’t have to go into that.”

“Right,” Wirt was playing with the necklace again. “The Beast had basically stalked Greg and I the entire time we were in the Unknown. His whole mission was to make the two of us into trees or to have one of us carry on the burden of being the lantern bearer. He did that to the Woodsman. He would cut down trees to feed the fire, thinking it was the soul of his daughter. All the while he was just being manipulated by the Beast,” Wirt’s mouth set into a firm frown. It was disgusting to think about the way the Beast had used the Woodsman.

“The Beast tried to convince me that Greg’s soul was in the lantern, he wanted me to become the lantern bearer if I wasn’t going to turn into a tree. He failed, obviously,” Wirt hated to think about how close he and Greg become to staying in the Unknown forever. He wondered what their parents would have done. Their mom and Magan would have been devastated. “We got rid of him. Well, we got away from him. I'm pretty sure the Woodsman was the one to finish him off,” sometimes Wirt worried that the Beast back. And he found it ridiculous of himself.

He was twenty-five, paid rent, had a bachelor’s degree (and considered a master's), and was a published author. Not a fifteen-year-old who recorded poems on cassette tapes and then panicked when giving them to the person they were meant for.

“Do you think the Beast somehow got into our plane of existence? Dipper asked him, which surprised Wirt a little bit.

He blinked at him, fiddling with his necklace still. “I, uh, I don't know,” he answered honestly. “I don't know about any of this… Just minimal stuff that I looked up after we got out of the Unknown. And then I just ignore it all the time so, yeah, I don't know about that. I don't even know how he would have gotten here. Or survived,” Wirt shrugged his shoulders.

Dipper took this into consideration, rubbing his chin before he leaned back on the couch. “I fought off an interdimensional being before too.”

Wirt laughed despite his shock, “Is this just a casual Friday for you?”

Dipper gave him a grin. “Nah. It happened when we were like thirteen over summer vacation,” he stated as if it wasn’t any big deal. Wirt wondered just how many things Dipper had run into in his life. Apparently, his experience wasn’t as isolated as Wirt thought it was. It was weirdly comforting to know that some other people had to fight for their lives against something not of their plane of existence before they were even able to legally drive.

Maybe it was a secret common thread in people’s childhoods that went unnoticed. Wirt tried to imagine Sara getting rid of some supernatural being.

That seemed too far-fetched.

“Interacting with things we aren’t supposed to is kind of my family’s thing,” Dipper’s voice drew Wirt’s attention again. Wirt looked at him, raising his eyebrows before his expression settled into something less startled and just curious.

“What do you mean by that?” Obviously, Wirt had _some_  idea to what that meant. But there was clearly something more to that story.

Dipper waved his hand nonchalantly, “Well, you know. Gravity Falls was weird. It just so happens that one of my Grunkle’s got involved with the interdimensional being my sister dealt with. No big deal.”

There was more to that story, Wirt wanted to know about it. But he understood the whole not pressuring people to say things thing.

Dipper leaned back on the couch and clicked his pen a few more times. He looked at Wirt again. Wirt had his legs crossed and his hands over his lap, his back slightly hunched. He seemed to be trying to make himself smaller. Even though that was difficult since Wirt was tall (not that Dipper minded, but this was about business and not about long legs). He decided to get back on track with why Wirt was in his hotel room in the first place.

“Would it be possible that I can talk to your brother? And maybe you can write down your full experience?” Dipper asked him, shifting how he sat. He crossed his legs, careful not to bump Wirt with his knee even with the distance between them.

Wirt nodded his head. “Writing it all out would be easier for me,” he admitted. “I can give you Greg’s number? He’s coming to visit me this Saturday as well if you want to meet him then,” Wirt offered.

“Meeting him on Saturday sounds best,” Dipper scratched his chin, “I don’t know how he’ll feel about suddenly having my number.”

“He probably wouldn’t mind,” Wirt told him, smiling. “But I’ll tell him that you’ll be there Saturday to talk to him. Would you need a ride there or something?”

Dipper shook his head, “No. I could use public transportation like a normal person, there’s no point in making you drive here then back to your house. Just send me your address.” Dipper was more than used to not having someone to give him a ride to places.

Wirt nodded, “Okay.” He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but his phone began to ring. Wirt pulled it out and frowned a bit, “Sorry. It’s uh, it’s my publisher.” Wirt was pretty sure that if he ignored her or didn’t call her back one more time she would throttle him. He had issues with confrontation sometimes and trying to explain to your publisher why he hadn’t submitted anything when he was supposed too was going to be difficult, even if she was lenient with him.

“Oh. You should probably answer that,” Dipper raised an eyebrow at him. Wirt scrunched his nose at the thought before nodding and sighing in resignation.

“Yeah, I should. I should probably get going too,” Wirt told Dipper.

“Don’t let me hold you up,” Dipper stood to show him out. Wirt stood too. “I’ll contact you later if I have any specific questions. Just give me all your details in an email,” an email would be best since Wirt was clearly uncomfortable with actually talking about the issues.

“Of course,” Wirt’s phone kept ringing and he was getting closer to the door. “Thank you again for coming all the way out here.”

“It’s no issue, have a goodnight Wirt,” Dipper gave one more smile before Wirt was gone.

When the door was shut behind him, Dipper locked it and sighed. He rubbed his arm, subconsciously touching the tattoos that hid underneath his sleeves. Thinking about Wirt’s brother Greg made him think about Mabel and he knew that she had been texting him all day.

Dipper pulled out his phone and smiled a bit at the number of photos that Mabel had sent him and all of the silly things she had sent too. He called her, finding his laptop in his bag before settling down and opening it up to begin his research. His phone was snug against his shoulder and his ear. It didn’t take Mabel very long to answer.

 _“Finally! I’ve been texting you for_ foreeevvverr _bro,”_ Mabel’s voice was bright on the other end.

“Sorry. Sorry. I got here, and we went to lunch and talked for a little bit.”

_“So, what’s he like? Do you think this is going to be something small scale?”_

“Can’t tell yet, this is the first time I’m actually getting a lot of information on the Unknown, but I don’t know about the situation he’s in itself. He’s nice, kind of awkward about his whole thing. But I expected that,” Dipper shrugged even though Mabel couldn’t see.

Mabel hummed on the other end, _“Is he cute?”_  She asked, a teasing tone creeping into her voice.

Despite himself, Dipper blushed. “Mabel.”

 _“What? It wouldn’t be the_ first _time you were attracted to someone who you were working for, or with,”_  Dipper rolled his eyes at that statement.

“I’m not dignifying that question with an answer.”

There was some rustling on the other end and then Mabel was shouting, no doubt to Pacifica, _“He definitely thinks he’s cute!”_

“Mabel!” He frowned a little, adjusting his phone as he typed his notes up.

 _“_ Dipperrrr _,”_ Mabel replied the receiver back to near her mouth. _“Fine,”_ she sighed. _“How’s Boston?”_

“Boston’s good,” Dipper answered, “It’s nice in the fall.”

 _“I think the last time we went it was summer, right? To deal with that_ massively _haunted neighborhood.”_

“Mhm,” Dipper confirmed, “I don’t know if I need your help yet but if I do I’ll let you know.”

 _“I might just visit anyways to see it,”_  Mabel laughed. _“Also, to meet Wirt.”_

“Mabel,” Dipper, in his opinion, spent most of his life scolding her in some way. Mabel blew a raspberry at him. He rolled his eyes again, “How has your day been?” He asked her, changing the topic easily.

Mabel excitedly launched into a full detailed explanation of her day. Dipper listened to her happily, not minding her scattered storied of what she did for that day. Hearing Mabel chatter while he worked was something that he was used to. Plus, Dipper just had the overwhelming urge to make sure that Mabel was okay.  
▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

Dipper had arrived in Boston Friday morning so Saturday came quickly. Wirt had sent him his address and Dipper was pleased to find out that the commute from the hotel to Wirt’s apartment wasn’t that bad. Greg was supposed to arrive around late morning and Dipper had gotten there a lot earlier than he probably should have.

Wirt was a slow riser. He hadn’t been expecting for Dipper to be at his door at eight a.m. His hair was askew and sticking up in several places and his expression was a mix of sleepy and bewildered. “Oh. Uh. Hi, you’re early,” his voice was rougher in the morning, sort of raspy.

“Sorry. I texted you?” Dipper rubbed the back of his neck and Wirt blinked at him for a moment before jumping a bit.

“Oh! Come in. Sorry, I just woke up. I should have set an alarm or something, I went to bed late last night,” not exactly a lie. Wirt had issues sleeping most of the time and last night hadn’t been an exception. He had another dream of a dark, gloomy forest. This time he wasn’t rooting into the ground instead the dream was full of water and freezing temperatures. Thinking about it was enough to make Wirt shudder a bit. Dipper didn’t seem to notice as he kicked off his shoes.

“I’ll go put the kettle on. Unless you want coffee?” Wirt kept a distance, too aware of his morning breath.

“Tea is fine,” Dipper adjusted his ball cap and Wirt noticed that his sleeves were pushed up a bit. Wirt could see ink peeking out underneath his sleeve but tried not to stare.

“Okay. Great. I have black and some other options,” Wirt told him. “I’m just, going to go and try to look more presentable,” he ducked out of the living and disappeared into the bathroom. Dipper could hear the water running as Wirt brushed his teeth and probably shortened his usual morning routine because of Dipper’s early arrival.

Dipper looked around the living room. Wirt’s place wasn’t as tidy as he would have expected. It also didn’t match at all. It was like Wirt had bought every piece of furniture one at a time and didn’t stick with a cohesive theme, just grabbing what he liked. There were books scattered throughout the room, notebooks and pens. Plants lined the windowsill, some of them needed some TLC but they weren’t dying. Not yet anyway.

A few picture frames, several in a line. One depicted a younger Wirt, fresh out of high school, smiling with a kid no older than ten who was holding a frog in his arms (Greg, that had to be Greg when he was younger). Another had a full family picture, Wirt looking uncomfortable as he was squished against several aunts and cousins, one of the cousins sulking in the corner of the picture wearing all black (but still festive in a Christmas sweater).

The next was a Polaroid, a dark-skinned girl posing next to Wirt, holding a book above her head as if it was Simba while Wirt laughed next to her -- a candid that made Dipper feel a little warm, a smile at his lips. Most of the pictures in the house seemed to be of Wirt’s family. When Dipper looked into the kitchen he saw several more of Greg, a few more with the frog included, and a lot with Wirt’s parents (Wirt didn’t look much like his mom at first glance, Dipper imagined they looked more related in real life than they did in the photo).

The kitchen was just as mismatched as the rest of the house. The kettle was modern and chic looking, but everything else was sort of rustic and vintage. The fridge was covered with reminders and photos. There were dish towels with bluebirds stitched into them. Despite it not matching it was a cozy little apartment. It seemed to suit Wirt, weirdly enough. He stared at a picture of the same dark-skinned girl in it from another one, this time she was by herself and pretending as if she was going to kiss a statue.

Dipper resisted the urge to snoop further and was heading back towards the living room before Wirt walked in.

He looked less sleepy, still tired with the bags under his eyes although Dipper couldn’t judge him about that. His outfit was like the one from yesterday. A soft looking argyle sweater with a buttoned-up shirt underneath and light grey pants. “Sara, the girl in the picture, and I went to an art museum and she made me take that picture. It’s this statue of the guy the school she teaches at was named after, she got her permanent position that day and thought that was the best picture to celebrate with,” Wirt explained. He went over to the kettle as it began to whistle.

“Are you two…?”

Wirt looked at him, shaking his head. “No. When we were younger we tried but we work better as friends, way better as friends,” Wirt told him. “She’s my best friend, apart from Greg.”

Dipper nodded, watching as Wirt grabbed two mugs from one of the cabinets. One of them was covered in bluebirds, the other sported the Boston University logo. “I didn’t mean to snoop,” he did, but he still felt a bit guilty about it.

“It’s okay, you didn’t do much snooping. I know there’s a lot of things in my place that makes people curious,” Wirt shrugged his shoulders. “Sugar or honey?”

“Honey.”

“If you want cream in yours I can do that too but do know I’ll be judging you for putting milk in black tea.”

Dipper smiled, leaning against one of the counters, “I’m fine without the milk, thanks. Can I ask about the way your place is set up? It’s not super cohesive.”

Wirt smiled back and handed Dipper a cup of hot tea. “I tried to stick with a theme at first. Eventually, I just kept finding pieces of furniture I liked and didn’t match. Plus, I couldn’t afford to buy everything all at once so,” he shrugged his shoulder and gestured to the living room. “It’s sort of a mess. I know.”

“I like it. I think it makes it homier, shows that someone actually lives here,” Dipper replied. Wirt led him back out to the living room and Dipper looked at the pictures again.

“So that’s Greg?”

Wirt stood next to him, “Yeah. I was leaving for my first year of college, he was ten. That’s our old frog, Jason Funderburker. He passed away, but we had him in the Unknown.” Wirt touched the necklace, fiddling with the little frog charm that was on it.

“And the bluebirds are because of Beatrice?”

Wirt nodded, “Just a small way to remind me of her.”

Dipper hummed and took in one of the pictures again. Wirt studied his face. Dipper was a handsome guy, his features were attractive, but that wasn’t the main reason for Wirt staring. Neither were the soft brown curls that peeked underneath his baseball cap. It must have just skipped over at him when he first saw Dipper since he was off guard, but he was wearing glasses. They were resting on the bridge of his nose, a simple metal frame with the bottom part missing. They suited his face nicely, and Wirt had no idea why seeing Dipper with glasses on made his face flush slightly.

Dipper looked great without glasses. Wirt just happened to like him in glasses too, apparently. Not that he had been focused on Dipper’s looks the previous day. He just studied people’s faces, that was a normal thing, right?

“Wirt?” Dipper was looking at him now. “Do I have something on my face?” Dipper rubbed his cheek.

“Uh, no. No. You’re just… wearing glasses.”

Dipper touched them almost self-consciously, “Yeah. I kind of need them. I just don’t like wearing them.”

“You look good in them,” Wirt told him before his brain could tell him not to. “Not that you look bad without them or that --”

Dipper just laughed lightly, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Wirt said that more to his mug of tea than Dipper.

The two of them idly talked for a little bit before Greg came. Dipper spotted a few poetry books on Wirt’s table and that launched into a long discussion that was mainly Wirt talking about the writings of Path. Dipper found that he didn’t mind Wirt talking for so long, he seemed comfortable and confident talking about it too which was nice from the usual reserve that Wirt showed.

A knock on the door stopped their conversations and Wirt answered it quickly. Greg wasn’t as tall as Wirt. Their hairs were different shades of dark brown, they were closer in color than when they were younger though since Greg’s hair had darkened and while Wirt was more on the tanner side of things, Greg had taken after his father in his coloring while Wirt had taken after his own father in build. Greg had a different facial structure, his nose more button-shaped, and he had a stockier build in comparison to Wirt’s lankiness. Greg was smooth where Wirt was sharp. At first glance, the two of them didn’t seem like brothers. But they had the same wide, dark brown, doe eyes and similar smiles when Wirt smiled a genuine one.

“Hey, Wirt!” Greg was louder than his brother and apparently more affectionate, quick to wrap Wirt into a hug that made Wirt let out a small noise from how tight it was. Wirt hugged him back.

“Hi. How was the drive?”

“Not that bad,” Greg took off his shoes and stepped further into the apartment. His eyes landed on Dipper almost immediately. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.” Greg rushed towards him, getting close. He seemed to study him, “You look a lot taller in your videos. I can’t believe Wirt wrote to you, he’s sort of a stick in the mud when it comes to this stuff. You’re actually here.” Greg was filled with excitement, his energy reminding Dipper of Mabel.

“Greg,” Wirt sighed behind him, making Greg turn around and pout.

“It’s true. You hate talking about this stuff, not that I don’t blame you for it. But I never thought you would actually be able to convince him enough to fly out here,” Greg stood next to Wirt again.

Dipper looked between the two of them. “You guys seemed to be dealing with an interesting case,” Dipper smiled at Greg. “I’m Dipper, but you already know that.”

“Greg! I’m sure you already know that too,” Greg gave him a wide grin. “Wirt said that you wanted to talk to me?”

Dipper nodded, “Yeah. I wanted to get your version of things about the Unknown. Also, if there’s been anything going on around you that seems out of the ordinary.”

“Let’s talk then. I don’t think anything weird has been going on. Other than nightmares which haven’t happened in a while and definitely not this real,” Greg flopped onto the couch, stretching himself out.

“You’ve been having more nightmares too?” Wirt asked. Dipper looked between the two of them. Wirt was playing with his necklace again, more nervous this time.

Greg turned around and nodded at him, “Yeah, and they're like hyper-realistic. Last time this happened it was because I was reading too many horror books before bed, but this didn't have any sort of triggers and it never felt like I was there.”

Wirt seemed startled by what his brother was saying. Dipper leaned forward from where he sat on the loveseat Wirt had in his living room. Wirt took a seat beside him. “Greg, if you don't mind can you describe the nightmares for me?”

Greg looked at Wirt, the two of them meeting eyes and Wirt nodded, playing with his necklace even more. Dipper noticed that Greg had a matching one around his neck.

“Okay well, I'm in a forest. But the forest is grey. And there's someone speaking to me saying --"

“Is it telling you that you're still lost?” Wirt cut Greg off, and Greg furrowed his brows and shook his head.

“No, it's telling me that I need to keep all eyes open. That if I don't I'll get dragged down too,” Greg tilted his head at Wirt. “What's the voice telling you?”

Dipper turned to Wirt who inched away from them both, attempting to make himself smaller again. “It tells me that I-I'm still lost, covered in leaves. That type of stuff,” Wirt kept it to himself that the dream wasn't always in the woods and the voice had gotten louder now. The corners of the apartment seemed to darken despite it being noon.

Dipper seemed to notice with the frown that began to settle onto his face. “What does the voice sound like?”

“A real jerk.”/ “Condescending.” Both brothers spoke at the same time.

“And you both had nightmares before this? But not this intense?” Dipper scribbled something down in his book, Wirt didn't lean over and read it.

Dipper’s skin felt as if it was beginning to crawl. There were no actual signs of anything yet. Nothing that confirmed any of the suspicions he had but still. The ink along his left arm itch, especially the symbol that laid there.

“Yeah. Most of it is just common PTSD stuff,” Greg always spoke about it easier in comparison to Wirt. Without Greg Wirt didn't think he would have survived the hauntings left after the event, which was a lot of pressure for Wirt to place on someone who was eight years his junior.

“These are different though… the smell of wet autumn leaves as the winds change. A moon unshifting and bright in the darkness of the dull surroundings, shadows following you no matter which way you turn. Roots beginning to take hold,” Greg threw a pillow at Wirt to get him to stop talking. Wirt looked at the pillow, offended.

“Greg.”

“Sorry,” Greg was not sorry. Wirt’s expression softened. He wasn't the one that almost turned into a tree between the two of them.

It wouldn't take a genius to read the tension in the room. “Is there anything else you guys can tell me about these dreams?”

Both Wirt and Greg stated that no, there wasn't. Dipper nodded, “Okay. So, do you mind telling me about how the Unknown went for you?” Dipper focused solely on Greg now who fidgeted, all of the tension in him dissipating. Or at least he hid it well. Wirt got up from his position next to Dipper, murmuring something about getting a snack from the kitchen.

Greg requested pretzels, and Dipper stated that he was fine with just some water.

Wirt dismissed himself, hiding away in the kitchen for a little bit longer than needed to get pretzels and water. Greg began to explain how the Unknown went from his point of view. Most of the things were relatively similar, but a few details were undeniably different. Like how sometimes Greg seemed to have viewed it as a fun adventure, Cloud City, and the fact that Greg thought he had been playing with the Beast.

Wirt took a moment in the kitchen to steel himself before he returned to the living room. Greg had begun to tell Dipper about their “Uncle Endicott" which was something he refused to get off. At one point he even tried to convince Wirt that they should write the Endicott tea company, so they could get some fortune since they were _so close_  to Endicott himself.

Greg’s version was almost a bit refreshing to hear in Dipper’s opinion. Sure, it didn’t sound like how it really happened. Both brothers seemed to have a skewed point of view. Nevertheless, the way that (most of) the Unknown went was a lot kinder for Greg than it was for Wirt.

Dipper wrote down in his notebook: unknown perception changes depending on the person within? Maybe limited to people caught in the “limbo".

“And then when we woke up, we knew it was real because we shared mainly the same story. Also, Jason Funderburker glowed when we shook him because of the bell inside of him. He stopped glowing after a few months though,” Greg finished. He was sitting upright on the couch now.

Did the frog allow them to go home? Had Jason Funderburker been their anchor?

“How long did Jason Funderburker live?”

Greg thought about it, his expression softening. “He died over this summer. Most frogs live ten to twelve years, but we don't know how old he was when we adopted him.”

“He lived a good life,” Wirt gave Greg a gentle smile that Greg returned. Dipper knew what it was like to lose a pet. Pigs lived on the average about eight years. He and Mabel had managed to have a good ten years with Waddles, probably because of his domestication. Mabel still teared up whenever she thought about pigs, and she couldn't make it through the first ten minutes of Babe without sobbing (Dipper would cry too but he didn't exactly express things as strongly or well as Mabel).

“He did,” Greg agreed with his brother.

“When did the nightmares begin to get more real?” Dipper wondered if it was insensitive to ask but it was important, and he needed to do this research.

“For me it was about… actually, about a month after Jason Funderburker died,” Greg pressed his lips into a thin line and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked like Wirt in that moment.

“It's about the same time for me,” Wirt tilted his head, crossing his arms over his chest too.

Dipper frowned to himself, clicking his pen as he thought. Did Jason Funderburker offer the brothers some sort of protection or ward? Dipper wondered if it was possible for a frog to even be that strong of a protector. He adjusted his baseball cap, “Okay. Okay…” he said mainly to himself.

“Are we going to go on some spooky adventure now where we get to the bottom of this?” Greg asked him. “I understand the respecting the paranormal creature thing pretty well. That doesn't mean I don't want to see a werewolf in real life.”

“Greg, we went into a different plane altogether and that wasn't enough for you?”

“You should know it wasn't enough, brother o’ mine. I need to see more,” Greg rolled his eyes at Wirt, speaking like he was talking about the easiest thing in the world to explain. He looked at Dipper, “So? Adventure?”

Dipper smiled, Greg was seventeen, but he was still young and clearly held onto some of the more childish aspects of his personality. Not that it was a bad thing.

“The adventure won't happen yet but when it does you’ll be there.”

“Not with school, it's your senior year Greg you can't slack off. And aren't you a lead in the play this fall?” Wirt stepped into the older, responsible brother role easily.

Greg frowned, “Okay. Then when I don't have school or rehearsal can I come along? Or what if the adventure is so big I can't go to school.”

Wirt shrugged his shoulders, “That depends on the adventure, doesn't it?”

“We’ll keep in contact, so you'll be involved anyways, don't worry Greg,” Dipper told the younger brother who seemed pleased enough by that.

“So, have you gone sightseeing at all yet? Has Wirt taken you to Salem?” Greg was quick to change topics.

“He's only been here for one day Greg, plus he’s here on business. Sightseeing might not be on his agenda,” Wirt looked at Dipper, trying to gauge his reaction.

Dipper shrugged his shoulders, “I've always wanted to go and never had the time.” He wanted to work on the case, he wanted to figure everything out already. But at the same time the apartment felt wrong suddenly, and he wanted to get both brothers away from it and to take their mind off of what was happening to them. Dipper was just as stubborn as he was when he was younger, but he knew now that other people needed breaks.

Greg beamed, “Wirt we’re taking him to Salem.”

Dipper grinned at Wirt, “Yeah, Wirt, we’re taking me to Salem.” Wirt tried to hide his smile as he grumbled and got his keys, Greg whooping out of excitement when he did.

Dipper glanced at his notebook, tucking it away. He was going to have to call Mabel.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magan is Wirt's stepfather/Greg's dad. I chose the name simply because my step-mother is named Meghan and that's the masculine version (or at least a close one to a masculine version) of her name  
> Also, the different views of the Unknown are based on the comics  
> The plot thickens (finally)  
> And hello teen Greg! That's someone I need to get used to writing


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for reference, none of these chapters are beta'd  
> i would be open to one but if you guys see any mistakes just comment below

Going to Salem had been a good way to get Wirt’s mind off of things. At least a little. Dipper seemed to have fun and Greg enjoyed Salem even though he had been there several times before. Even though Wirt only meant to stay in Salem for a few hours, it turned out to be an all-day trip. Wirt found it a bit adorable how Dipper lit up whenever they went somewhere new.  
  
Wirt was fine for most of their haunted tour of Salem. Greg had been looking on his phone for something else to do, he and Dipper had been leading the expedition. They were sitting in a witch-themed cafe, Dipper was texting to someone furiously (his sister, he disclosed) while Wirt scribbled lines and tried different words for a poem that would never come. The sun had already set, and Wirt was wondering if this was where Dipper and Greg called it a quits. Wirt _was_  having fun. A part of him didn't want to go home, the other part wanted to lay down and not talk to anyone for fifteen hours.  
  
Wirt was relieved that the traffic wouldn't be horrendous no matter what time they left. Reason #1500 Wirt would never move to New York.  
  
Greg hummed a song underneath his breath that sounded reminiscent of “Potatoes and Molasses”.  
  
“Oh!” He looked up at the two of them. “We can do this haunted tour! It starts at eight and there's a few tickets left.”  
  
Greg and Dipper were sitting next to each other, Greg choosing him over his brother since he wanted to chat animatedly on anything and everything that had come to mind. Dipper looked at Greg, his interest piqued. His eyes slid over to Wirt. His face was down in his notebook, his tongue peeking out just a bit between his lips, and he looked up at Greg. He glanced over at Dipper for the briefest moment.  
  
“I don't know Greg,” his brows furrowed, “How long is it?”  
  
Greg shrugged, “It depends since it’s up to how fast everyone walks, but it should be like ninety minutes. The tour is going to start at Remember Salem Gift Shop. I've been on the day tour once when I went here with school,” Greg told Wirt. He looked at his older brother, turning on the most wanting, puppy-eyed look he could muster. It reminded Dipper of Mabel using her cuteness that she clung to for basically anything.  
  
“Please Wirt, it'll be fun and I bet spooky,” Greg had a small whiny tone.  
  
Wirt seemed to consider it, hesitation in his face. He looked back over at Dipper. Dipper blinked a bit, “It sounds fun. I've been apart of plenty of touristy tours before, it'd be nice to be on the other side of that,” Dipper smiled at Wirt.  
  
Wirt’s shoulders seemed to slump a bit, “Okay.” He gave in and Greg let out a loud enough “yes!” for several patrons to look over at him. He didn't care for the attention, on the other hand, Wirt just looked mildly embarrassed and amused.  
  
“How much are the tickets?” Wirt asked Greg, who slid his phone over to show him. The three of them figured out how they were going to pay for them, Greg easily booking the tickets and just stating cheerily that they can pay them back whenever since it was a lot easier over card to pay for those sorts of things. There was still some time left before the tour so the three of them got back to walking around.  
  
Eventually, they ended up in a gift shop near the tour start named Witch Way Gifts, looking over items. It was nearing closing time but the shopkeeper didn’t mind them being there. Dipper examined a pair of earrings, and Wirt stared at him for a moment before approaching.  
  
“I didn’t peg you for an earrings sort of guy,” Wirt’s comment was a bit stilted, awkward. Dipper didn’t comment if he detected any awkwardness.  
  
He looked up at Wirt, shrugging with a small smile. “I’m not. But my sister is a huge fan of dressing similar to a character on Disney channel, so she would love things like this,” DIpper gestured to a pair of earrings. A stereotypical witch sat on a broom, painted with a manic grin of excitement as she held tightly onto her hat and flew into the sky (or the person's face since she was on an earring).  
  
“I can’t decide if I want to get her those or one of the other options,” Dipper told him. Wirt leaned in a bit to examine the earrings closer. “I’m caught between the witch ones or the crystal ball ones,” Wirt looked at the crystal balls. They were cute, the glass for the balls were tinted a light purple and seemed to have some sparkle to them. It wasn’t enough to make them gimmicky, and when Wirt looked closely enough he could see small cards leaning against the base of what the ball was meant to be resting on (if it were an actual ball).  
  
“I’d say the crystal balls. They’re cute and a good token, but they’re not overtly Halloween-y,” Wirt added in his opinion. He didn’t know much about earrings or fashion but he could imagine his mom or Sara wearing the crystal balls easier as opposed to the witches. “Also, the witch may be heavy on the ear,” he stated quickly at the end, shrugging his shoulders.  
  
Dipper nodded, “Yeah. You’re probably right.” He agreed with Wirt, taking the earrings (very gently) off of the display and purchasing them. Wirt stood by and watched for a moment before Greg came running up behind him.  
  
“Wirt! Wirt!” He grabbed his arm and gently tugged him, a grin on his face. “We’re going to be late for the tour.”  
  
Wirt held back the urge to scold Greg for his loudness or him running in the store. He learned that sometimes he had to let Greg be silly, be himself. And sometimes he was wounded up way too tightly (and was an ass because of it).  
  
“Sorry about that,” Dipper finished buying the earrings. “I wanted to get something.”  
  
Greg asked him seriously, “I’ll forgive you this one time,” he crossed his arms over his chest. He looked serious for a moment, but a smile was at the corner of his lips. Greg had grown but he was still very much the little kid he used to be, the very root of him was that he was such a joy to be around and interact with.  
  
Greg led them out of the store, and then the tour began. And Wirt was mortified.  
  
Actually, it wasn’t so much that he was mortified than just mildly embarrassed. It wasn’t even on his behalf that he was embarrassed.  
  
Really, he should have known better than to bring someone who was a paranormal _expert_  on a haunted tour of Salem. Dipper was a pretty good tourist, most of the time he just made small quips underneath his breath to Wirt or Greg. Dipper was a bit more outspoken on this one, raising his hand and asking a question every now and then. That was fine within itself.  
  
The temperature was dropping and Wirt stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, attempting to keep his fingers warm. Their tour guide was a friendly guy named David, who seemed to have the right amount of balance and humor. He was a bit lacking in the information but when he was urged enough, David went into detail about whatever they were focused on that moment. Despite the cold temperatures and the fact that Wirt’s feet were aching, he was enjoying himself.  
  
Then they got to the Clue House. David was doing his best to make sure that the tour remained entertaining, it was meant to be a haunted tour for fun and not a paranormal research tour. And then Dipper raised his hand. Which was fine. Wirt was looking up at the old building, familiar with the stories. Greg had filled him in on a lot of the paranormal stuff about Salem other than the Witch Trials. David was telling the tour group about the basics of the house, nothing too unfamiliar to Wirt.  
  
“Yes, sir?” David looked at Dipper, pointing at him to make sure that he knew who he was talking about. Wirt glanced at Dipper while Greg tried to get pictures of ghosts in the windows.  
  
“Wasn’t Joseph White actually considered a tyrant by many in the neighborhood? He fired Joe Knapp for being engaged to great-niece Mary and was a proud slave trader despite slave trading being outlawed around the time of his death,” Dipper began.  
  
“Well, yes, which leads people to believe --”  
  
“That he was murdered out of passion and most likely from revenge, yeah,” Dipper nodded, “The point is is that there were a lot of people out to get him. There was a letter that Joseph Story wrote, accusing Stephen White of murder. Afterwards, the letters that connected the Knapp brothers to the murder of Captain White came in. At that same time, there were two coroner's reports. The first stating the death of Joseph White was from a blow to the head and the dagger wounds had happened after his death sometime later.  
  
Investigators also said the murderer had snuck in through a second-floor window. Joseph White house was connected to the tunnels in Salem. So were Joseph Story's, Joseph Jr. White's, Stephen White's, and Simon Forrester's houses were connected by tunnels. They were all brothers or brother in laws of Stephen White. Richard Crowninshield Jr. had used the tunnels to move men through to his brothels and saloons. Why would Richard use the window?” Dipper was drawing attention from the rest of the tour group, everyone looking at him and the tour guide. Wirt felt his face heat up automatically from the looks people were giving the trio.  
  
Greg had stopped taking pictures of the house to look at Dipper too.  
  
“Are you saying that the Knapp brothers weren’t responsible for the murder of Joseph White?” David the Tour Guide asked.  
  
Dipper shrugged his shoulders, “I’m saying there’s a chance that they were framed by Stephen White, not that they were innocent. I mean, Stephen White had hired Daniel Webster who was his daughter's husband’s father to prosecute the Knapp brothers meaning there was already a bias there. Then, three months after the murder, Chief Justice of Massachusetts Superior Court Parker, died. Three days before his death Isaac Parker commented he has been always in perfect health and never missed a day in court, and while poor health wasn’t uncommon back then a guy doesn’t usually just drop dead like that without anyone noticing.” Dipper waved his hand nonchalantly as if speaking about the weather. “For reference, by the way, Stephen White’s mother died in 1827. That year is the same year Joseph Knapp Jr. married Stephen White's cousin who was living with Joseph White and having an affair with him with the hopes of leaving him an heir.  
  
“Judge Parker died three years after the date of Stephen White’s mother’s death. So,” Dipper paused, “Back on track. Daniel Webster handpicked the next Superior Court Justice. He then urged Lemuel Shaw to replace Parker as Superior Court Justice after Joseph Story, who was Stephen White's brother in law, would not leave the US Superior Court. Shaw disqualified himself off the case because he defended Selman and Chase in the White murder. Franklin Dexter was the council for the Knapps. Dexter was also counsel for Thomas Lyman Jr. Who was sued for libel against Webster that ended in a hung jury 10 against Lyman and 2 for him.”  
  
“When you really look at everything, there’s a ton of details that people miss and don’t go over. There's a huge possible conspiracy here in the murder of an old man,” Dipper seemed finished. There was silence for a moment. David the Tour Guide did not look pleased with Dipper interrupting his tour. Dipper seemed oblivious to any looks that they were given.  
  
“Many say that the murder of Captain Joseph White inspired both Edgar Allen Poe and Nathaniel Hawthorne…” David the Tour Guide began to talk again, now just talking about the ghost and how everything inspired haunted and dark works. The tour kept moving.  
  
Wirt could hear whispers every now and then and he felt the same urge he had as a teenager to just hide away from whatever people said and blend into the background. Dipper looked at him, slowing down in his walking to walk beside Wirt. Greg slowed down too but seemed disconnected from them, still listening in on the tour.  
  
“Do you do that a lot?” Wirt couldn’t stop himself from asking.  
  
“Do what a lot?” Dipper raised his brow, confused.  
  
Wirt tried to find a gentle way to phrase his question. Saying “Do you just take over tours all of the time and make the tour guide hate you?” wasn’t a good plan. “Get really passionate about this stuff. Earlier you were pretty calm in comparison,” Wirt tilted his head as he spoke.  
  
Dipper looked at Wirt then at the tour guide. He seemed to be having a realization. “I didn’t mean to take over the tour or try to be that guy who thinks he knows more than the tour guide,” Dipper told him, almost frantically. “It just all sort of poured out? I mean there’s a lot of things about that murder that aren’t really discussed and I just felt that it needed to be said because he clearly wasn’t going to say anything,” he rambled.  
  
“You do kind of think you know more than him, don’t you?” Wirt asked Dipper, still feeling highly embarrassed but there was a smile on the edge of his mouth.  
  
Dipper rubbed the back of his neck, “Maybe a little.” He gave Wirt a bashful smile, adjusting the cap on his head. For the rest of the tour, the two of them hung in the back.  
  
By the end, Wirt was still feeling embarrassed but it had receded a bit. ONly to come back in full, hot flushing force when they said their goodbyes to the tour guide.  
  
“Thank you so much for the tour! It’s a lot scarier at night than in the day,” Greg gave David the Tour Guide a wide grin. Dipper went to say something, smiling but David the Tour Guide instantly looked soured and turned to someone else.  
  
The three of them decided it best to just leave then, Greg was holding in laughter about David the Tour Guide’s expression. By the time they reached the car, his laughter had slipped out and he was just laughing at random. Eventually, Wirt way joining in, and then Dipper. It wasn’t something Wirt would typically laugh at but he couldn’t keep it in with Greg giggling like crazy next to him.  
  
When they reached the car their laughter had subsided and Wirt was disgruntled to find that it was just as cold, if not colder, in the car than it was outside. He started up the car quick, reaching over to put the heat on the highest blast he was able too. Dipper sat in the passenger seat, Greg declaring he wanted the back so that he could fully stretch out.  
  
He did stretch out in the back, and Wirt popped a CD into the CD player. (Wirt found CDs a lot easier to deal with in the car than phones, phones were bothersome and it meant he had to download things and waste space that way even if he didn’t really use the space for anything else). The first song began to [play ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kwo_Ucs-wc4)as Wirt drove. Dipper and him were both silent for a few moments, letting the soft song play out.  
  
Dipper spoke up first, “Sorry about the tour, by the way.” He looked at Wirt before glancing out at the window. They were driving through the town and Dipper stared at the street lights they passed under.  
  
Wirt slowed to a stop when they reached a red light. He was silent, his eyes scanning the streets when the light turned green. “You’re fine?” His voice ended in a lilt, making it sound more like a question than a statement.  
  
Dipper looked amused, “Fine?” He repeated.  
  
Wirt nodded his head, “Fine.” He said with more determination. “I mean, I get embarrassed easily. But I grew up with Greg back there,” Wirt gestured to his brother who didn't seem to be paying attention to them. When Wirt glanced into the rearview mirror he saw that he was on his phone. “So, yeah, you’re fine,” he felt a bit flushed explaining to Dipper that he was in fact, okay.  
  
Dipper stared at him for a moment. “If you’re sure,” he stated before shifting around in his seat. “Thanks for taking us to Salem by the way.”  
  
Wirt glanced at him briefly before his eyes went back to the road. “It was no problem. You can’t just work, right? Plus, Greg would have bugged me about it anyways,” he shrugged his shoulders.  
  
“He really reminds me of my sister,” Dipper laughed lightly a bit, feeling tempted to reach for his phone and text Mabel. “They’ll get along really well if they ever meet.”  
  
“Will she… Will she come over here too?” Wirt asked him.  
  
“There’s no reason for her too,” so far anyway. Dipper still needed to have more evidence, more things to work off of. “You’ll probably meet her through a screen at one point. Her fiance says the two of us might as well be conjoined with how attached we are.”  
  
“It’s nice that you two are close,” they were on the highway now. The songs were shifting slowly one by one, quiet and almost lulling to Dipper with crooning, sad, almost nostalgic sounding voices. Dipper nodded in agreement. “So, was Salem everything you wanted it to be?”  
  
“Everything I wanted and more. I couldn’t really get any good evidence since there were so many people but it’s not really necessary, y’know? Like the place is still full of witches, and when you just go there you can feel the energy,” Dipper gestured with his hands before adjusting the cap on his head (Wirt wondered if he ever took it off and had the intrusive thought of Dipper wearing it in the shower -- which he quickly got rid of).  
  
“Wait. There are witches in Salem?”  
  
Dipper nodded enthusiastically, “Now there are, yeah. There’s a good portion.”  
  
Wirt pressed his lips together in thought, “Were they witches back then? Any of those accused, I mean.”  
  
There was silence for a moment. “No,” Dipper’s voice was somber, “None of those who were accused were actual witches. Not that most witches are something to be scared of. Most of them don’t want to cause harm.”  
  
Another beat of silence as Wirt took in the information. “You mentioned that there’s an energy in Salem?” He changed the subject. “How do you know?”  
  
“If you focus hard enough you can feel it. It’s easier for me because I search for this stuff. You’ve probably felt it without realizing it,” Dipper told him, “The best way that I can describe the energy is sort of… like you’re being drawn to something, or maybe you’re being told to run away from something and there’s an electric sort of feel around everything.”  
  
“So basically your gut instincts tend to freak out and then you feel static?”  
  
“Kinda?” Dipper moved his hand in a ‘so-so’ way. “That’s the best way I can describe it,” he repeated.  
  
“Oh, okay,” Wirt said as if he understood.  
  
He did not understand but he wasn’t going to ask again.  
  
“What were you writing today? You kept scribbling in your notebook,” Dipper was leaning his arm against the armrest now, his chin in his hand.  
  
“I was trying to get some poetry down,” his editor was really irritated now.  
  
“Any luck?”  
  
Wirt shook his head, “None. Nothing I write sounds… right. It’s too forced.”  
  
Dipper had never read Wirt’s work before but he wanted to. He felt sort of bad for not reading it beforehand. He’d come across some of it when he looked up who Wirt was, it was one of two things that popped up online about him. “Maybe you’re not looking for inspiration in the right spot?” Dipper scratched the back of his neck, “I don’t know anything about poetry so I’m probably wrong.”  
  
Wirt let out a noise that sounded unsure. His nose scrunched up as he considered what Dipper said. “I don’t know,” he confessed, “I’m just stuck.” Dipper felt like Wirt knew what might be a reason for him being stuck, just that he didn’t know how to get out of it. It wasn’t Dipper’s place to force him to confess that information even if he did want to figure out the reason why.  
  
“Hopefully you can get out of that block soon. Poetry is already hard enough to write,” Dipper was positive that Wirt was talented (even if he had nothing to back him up on this, he liked to give Wirt the benefit of the doubt).  
  
“It used to come easily to me. Literally, flow off of my tongue,” Wirt sounded wistful for a moment.  
  
“I was always better at prose, research papers are more my style still. Creative writing isn’t really for me,” creative stuff was always Mabel’s thing. Dipper supposed he could be creative. He could draw okay, he could write decently according to some. But that wasn’t really his territory.  
  
“Do you have any work?” Wirt asked him. “Creative wise. Even if it’s not for you.”  
  
“I have some,” Dipper told him. “Just things that I thought would be good and aren’t. Like I said, research papers and essays are better,” he shrugged. “Were you the kid in English class who had a massive crush on Shakespeare?”  
  
“I _loved_ Shakespeare but I loved Plath more. Dickinson was a close second, though,” Wirt answered. “I still love Plath. From her poems to her short stories. Pretty sure I annoyed my English teacher sophomore year with my obsession.”  
  
“I think we talked about before how awful we would have been together in high school.”  
  
“Did you ever talk over the teacher?” Wirt wondered if he had done the same thing as he did on the tour before.  
  
“Sometimes? I usually did it to get the class off track on purpose,” Dipper grinned at him. Wirt laughed lightly.  
  
“How annoying,” he laughed a bit, Wirt's tone teasing.  
  
“Am I annoying now?” Dipper quirked an eyebrow, a smirk teasing the corner of his lips.  
  
“No. But this definitely reaffirms that we wouldn't have gotten along together in school,” Wirt smiled. The conversation continued, transitioning every now and then into different topics. The car ride wasn’t very long, when they reached the town Wirt went to Dipper’s hotel first. He dropped him off, both Wirt and Greg saying their goodbyes before driving back to his own apartment.  
  
Greg was staying the night and both of them were quick to get ready for the night. “I’ll take the pull out couch,” he told Wirt and Wirt found it too tiring to argue so he just agreed, “You and Dipper talked a lot.” At this point, Greg was lounging on the couch and Wirt had just gone to grab a cup of water from the kitchen.  
  
Wirt shrugged, “You were pretty talkative too.”  
  
“Yes but you were more talkative than usual,” Greg stated this as if it was the clearest thing in the world.  
  
“I guess?” Wirt didn’t see the big deal in it. Greg was staring at him and he waved his hand dismissively, “He’s interesting to talk too.”  
  
Greg hummed quietly, as if he was considering something, “Goodnight, Wirt.”  
  
“Goodnight, Greg,” Wirt retired to his room.  
  
Wirt did a lot more social than he typically did on an average day. He was a homebody at his core. His necklace was irritating him so he took it off, feeling a bit naked without the charm against his skin (he hadn’t had it for long but he had gotten used to it). When he was finally settled, it didn’t take him very long to fall asleep.  
▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁  
  
This dream was different from the usual ones. The dreams were generally run of the mill. He was lost alone in the woods, trying to find Greg. Or maybe he was trying to save Greg, or both him and Greg were floating in the pond.  
  
Wirt sat, cold, shivering, on the bank of the pond. It was muddy and the air smelled cold. The first frost had hit, but the leaves were still the colors of fire. They were the only thing that were colored. Everything else was muted tones of grey. Wirt reached down, digging his fingers into the cold, wet dirt. It felt real.  
  
There weren’t any waves in the pond. But the water seemed to be rising. The moon was beginning to show, even though Wirt felt that it was day by instinct alone. Wirt tried to move back, flailing and falling down onto his back since his legs wouldn’t work, when suddenly there was a golden triangle in front of him. It had one eye and the stare of it felt familiar. Wirt had definitely seen the eye somewhere at least.  
  
“HEY THERE, CHUCKLES! TOOK ME A WHILE TO COME IN CLEAR TO YA!” The triangle spoke, and Wirt recognized the voice too. It was less demonic sounding this time around, now just sounding like a man screaming through a fan. “GLAD YOU RECOGNIZE ME! SORRY, WE HAD SUCH A BAD FIRST IMPRESSION, YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN YOUR FACE THOUGH!” The triangle laughed.  
  
“NAMES BILL CIPHER!” Bill was floating above his face and Wirt felt panicky looking at him.  
  
“W… What do you want?” He managed to get out.  
  
“TO JUST HELP OUT AN OLD FRIEND,” Bill flashed for a moment, his body flashed and Wirt saw a face of a preteen for a moment. “YOU KNOW HIM. I KNOW HIM. WE ALREADY HAVE THIS GREAT CONNECTION GOING HERE! HIS NAME IS DIPPER BY THE WAY IF YOU’RE PUNY HUMAN MIND COULDN’T GRASP ALL OF MY HINTS,” Bill gestured between the two of them, slowly floating away from Wirt. Wirt sat up. He still couldn’t move from the ground.  
  
“Help him? Help him with what?” Wirt furrowed his brows, feeling like he was breaching dangerous territory by asking Bill all these questions.  
  
“HELP HIM, HELP YOU, WHICH IN THE END WILL ULTIMATELY HELP ME!” Bill told him, snapping, “REALLY IT'S QUITE SIMPLE. TRY TO KEEP UP, CHUCKLES.”  
  
“Do you know what’s going on then?” Oh, that was a great idea, Wirt. Ask the entity what was going on. Wirt had the primal urge to not trust Bill. Considering his past with other entities, Wirt had no reason to trust him. Yet he was still asking questions even though Wirt felt that there would be repercussions from it.  
  
“OF COURSE I DO! I KNOW LOTS OF THINGS,” Bill told him, his body flashed again, “ ** _lOts oF tHInGS_** ,” he repeated himself and stared Wirt down.  
  
Wirt recoiled from the unblinking eye that stared at him. “THE ISSUE IS HERE THAT PINETREE WON’T TALK TO ME. PAST GRIEVANCES. I MEAN HE WENT A FAR TO GET HIMSELF TATTOOED TO MAKE SURE I DIDN’T EVER GET INTO HIS BODY AGAIN! SO I’M USING YOU AS A BRIDGE HERE, I NEED YOU TO TALK TO PINETREE FOR ME.”  
  
“Are you going to possess me?” Even more panic rose into his chest, and Wirt could feel it rising in his throat.  
  
“OH, IT’S NOT ME YOU HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT. OR YOUR BROTHER, BUT I THINK THE INTEREST IS OFF OF SWEET LITTLE ELEPHANT NOW. CONGRATS, CHUCKLES!” Again Bill laughed and Wirt frowned. The laugh was horrendous and more grating against his ears than anything.  
  
Wirt’s frown deepened and he looked at Bill, he opened his mouth to speak but Bill (he assumed, at least it was Bill, even if he couldn’t tell from the lack of a mouth) released a screeching noise that made Wirt flinch.  
  
“LOOKS LIKE TIMES UP, CONSIDER WHAT I TOLD YOU! AND REMEMBER DON’T WEAR WHITE AFTER LABOR DAY!” Bill disappeared in a flash.  
  
The dream took on full color now, the trees moving in the breeze. Wirt still couldn’t move from his spot but there was no more panic. The dream hadn’t turned sour. Despite being near the water he had drowned in, it was a peaceful day sitting next to a pond, enjoying one of the last few good days of weather before it turned bitter and cold.  
▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁  
  
Wirt woke up to his phone buzzing on the bedside table next to him. He ignored it and buried his head underneath his bedsheets. He closed his eyes, trying to get a bit more sleep. It felt like he hadn’t slept at all. Wirt could feel the warmth from the sun on his body and he briefly wondered how long the conversation in his dream actually was.  
  
He was more concerned about going back to sleep though and willed himself to relax. His phone stopped buzzing meaning that he could sleep with no distractions. Wirt reached the sweet spot between dozing off and wakefulness, his head and body heavy.  
  
A knock on his door.  
  
“Wirt? Wirt are you awake yet?” Greg’s voice came through the door. Wirt grumbled and buried his face deeper into the sheets. “Wirrrrrtt. I know you’re awake!”  
  
“‘M not,” Wirt mumbled.  
  
“I’m coming in,” Greg told him and before Wirt could get out of bed and stop him he walked into the room. Wirt looked over the covers at his younger brother. “It’s 10 a.m.”  
  
“Mornings are meant for sleep, Greg,” Wirt told him. He laid there for a moment longer before sitting up. “Why are you awake?” Wirt yawned into his hand.  
  
“Most people walk up around this time,” Greg rolled his eyes and Wirt did his best effort not to glare as he climbed out of bed. “Also Dipper just called me like three times because you weren’t answering your phone.”  
  
Wirt immediately stretched and grabbed his phone, getting out of bed quickly. Greg rolled his eyes, “So that gets you out of bed.” He sounded amused, leaving Wirt’s room.  
  
Wirt picked up his phone, there weren’t really any messages other from his mom, Dipper, and Sara. He brushed his teeth before finally calling Dipper back.  
  
Dipper was the type of person who didn’t sleep. He went to bed late and woke up early. More time for him to work. Apparently, Wirt was the type to sleep in because he finally called him back a bit before 11 o’clock (even Greg was up before him, which Dipper didn't expect). His phone started to ring and Dipper picked it up as soon as he saw that it was Wirt.  
  
“Good morning,” Dipper greeted him.  
  
_“Hi,”_ Wirt’s voice was raspy like the other time Dipper had forced him awake. It sounded like Wirt was making something on the other end. “ _Why are you calling so early?”_ He didn’t sound angry or irritated, just confused.  
  
“I just needed a follow-up on something, hold on,” Dipper placed his phone in between his face and his shoulder. He rummaged through his papers before finding what he wanted to ask. “You and Greg both mentioned having dreams where someone is talking to you, right?”  
  
_“Uh, yes.”_  
  
“Do you know how often you have that happen? And how often it happens for Greg?” Dipper asked, clicking his pen as he waited for an answer.  
  
_“Give me a moment to ask,_ ” Wirt told him.  
  
“Yeah, of course,” Dipper shifted his phone so that it wasn’t smushed against his face anymore. He heard Wirt walking before hearing a mumbled question and an even more muffled response. After a moment or two, the receiver lifted back to his face.  
  
_“He says that they don’t really happen at all._ He’s _had about three? Maybe. He doesn’t really remember,”_   Wirt answered.  
  
“What about you?”  
  
Another pause, Wirt was clearly thinking about. _“I’ve only really had one major dream like that. But according to Greg most of my other dreams are more_ graphic _.”_  
  
The fact that Wirt had more graphic dreams could just be that he had a harsher lingering of fear of the Unknown and that it affected him more heavily than Greg. But Greg having more dreams than Wirt made sense since he seemed to be the more receptive one. “Has Greg exhibited any behavior out of the ordinary?” Dipper asked next.  
  
_“No, he’s still the same Greg. Why?”_  Wirt sounded a bit concerned. Which, granted, was a reasonable reaction.  
  
Dipper felt relieved but frowned a bit. When he heard that there was a sarcastic sounding voice talking to them, his first thought went to Bill. But Bill would have made a deal with Greg by now for something. Dipper didn’t know exactly what Bill would want from either of the brothers or what Greg would want from Bill, but if he was talking to them then there must have been something. Or at least he had thought so.  
  
There was the chance that there happened to be another being talking to people through their dreams but Dipper had no idea who that would be.  
_  
_ _“Dipper?”_  Wirt was still on the other end.  
  
“Sorry. Sorry, got lost in my own thoughts there,” Dipper apologized. “I was just asking because of an old experience I had. It doesn’t seem like what happened back then is happening to you now, so I can scratch that off of the list.” Which meant that it most likely centered itself around their experience of the Unknown. Which Dipper had no idea what would be going on then, since the Beast didn’t appear to be an entity that would leave the Unknown.  
  
If he was still alive or existing. From the way that Greg and Wirt described him he seemed reliant on the edelwood trees, and even if he did have some sort of host it was more than likely he would still need fuel to survive since the lantern bearer needed those trees to keep the fire lit. And the trees didn’t exist outside of the Unknown. So.  
  
Dipper hummed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m going to let you go now Wirt, thanks.”  
  
_“No problem,”_ Wirt paused, _“You’ll let us know if you get anything?”_  
  
“Yeah, totally dude. Speaking of updates, nothing happened within the last few days of me being here, right?”  
  
There was a pause while Wirt thought back on what had happened in the past three days, _“Nope. Nothing that comes to mind.”_  
  
“Alright, well keep me posted.”  
  
_“Yeah, of course,”_  Wirt stated before hanging up. Dipper took off his hat, running his hands through his hair and brushing through some minor tangles. Right back to the beginning, he went, burying himself in his research to figure at least one thing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sneky  
> im going to try to update more often  
> trans-riot.tumblr.com  
> electricpurity on instagram


	5. Five

Greg spent Saturday and most of Sunday with Wirt before he left for home Sunday evening. Wirt had sent him off, telling him to drive safely. As usual, he stayed up until Greg sent him a text saying that he was home and safe (Wirt knew that Greg was a safe driver and that he was _fine_ but he was still nervous about Greg driving, the brotherly urge to protect him seemed to increase when Greg got behind the wheel).

Dipper and Wirt texted back and forth constantly, sometimes they called each other. But Dipper wasn’t over very often, not like Wirt needed him to be around. Greg and him spent most of the weekend doing their usual activities, such as cooking with each other, occasionally going out and hanging out in the city. Dipper seemed to want to keep his distance then. Greg invited him out but Dipper buried himself in his work.

Wirt, at the end of Sunday, was left alone.

He didn’t dislike being alone. In fact, he was the type of person who preferred being by himself than constantly being around people. It really wasn’t bad. Except that Wirt couldn’t stop thinking about to his dream (if he could call it that) with Bill.

Paranoia seemed to grow on Wirt like a parasite. If Bill, a giant being that didn’t seem like a great thing to deal with, wanted assistance to deal with something then it had to be bad. Wirt had to worry about the fact that there was something out there interested in him. It was just relieving to know that it was no longer interested in Greg.

Logically, Wirt knew that he should tell someone. Or at least, tell Dipper about what had been said. But Wirt reacted as he usually did too bad news, or to things that make other people upset. He internally panicked and kept all of the information to himself. Even when he shouldn’t.

Miscommunication was a cliche. Too many stories survived on it for a plot line. Yet, Wirt was purposefully holding information back. Wirt knew that not communicating everything was dangerous. At the same time, it wasn’t like Wirt could tell Dipper that this dream-manipulating entity named Bill that he apparently knew, and fought with as a pre-teen of all things, was back. And talking to Wirt, telling him things that could help but could also be useless in the end. He didn’t even know how he would begin to say something like that.

Wirt didn’t want to tell Greg anything either, even though he knew that he should since this concerned him too. But telling your younger brother that you might be possessed soon by something unearthly also wasn’t very easy. Was he just supposed to say, “Oh, hey Greg, just wanted to let you know that the entity that Dipper apparently knows contacted me in a dream of mine. You know, the weirdly condescending voice we hear sometimes? According to him, there’s a lot that he knows that can help but I have no idea what he’s referring to at all since he was super vague. This situation is great and super fun! Tell mom that I might not be able to come over for dinner next weekend since I might have to deal with him and something else, which is even better. Love you, there might be a chance I’ll die but no big deal. Bye!”?

That didn’t really flow well or sound very great. Greg would probably cry if he said something like that.

So, instead of telling someone something, Wirt just resorted to what he did when he was a teenager. What felt most natural. He was laying on his living room floor, contemplating what to do and his life decisions. Future, present, and past. Wirt just laid around feeling like he was a terrible person for what he had done and what he would do.

A playlist that he made specifically to feel sad to was playing. A classic rock song played, a guitar solo that felt incredibly nostalgic to him *Ballrooms of Mars - T. Rex*. Wirt closed his eyes, feeling an odd ache in his chest that the song gave to him. Wirt couldn’t explain the feeling of it. He just knew that it was a sad sort of nostalgia.

Wirt wished, for a brief moment, that Beatrice was there. It wasn’t the first time he wished her presence was around. Even after ten years, Wirt still wanted to see the girl-turned-bluebird (he never did see her human form, and he still wondered what she really looked like).

Beatrice would probably tell him that he was being dumb. That he should get his shit together and actually talk to people about what was going on. Wirt looked up at the ceiling, running a hand through his hair. There was small, brown stain in the corner of his ceiling that hadn’t been there before. Wirt furrowed his brows. Had someone upstairs spilled something and let it stain the carpet? Or flooded the floor somehow?

Wirt would go up and check but couldn’t find it in himself to stand up and then leave his room to go upstairs.

The rock song faded into something jazzier. Wirt didn’t know why this song made him feel sad, he didn’t even think it made him feel sad. It just made him feel something. The woman who sang had a sweet voice full of promises *We’ll Meet Again original*. Wirt’s phone buzzed on the coffee table and Wirt ignored it in favor of just laying there and listening to his music.

It buzzed again. And then again, several times before Wirt got tired of hearing the buzzing sound against the wood. He reached up and grabbed it, looking at the phone screen. Sara had texted him several times, stating that she was coming over with takeout. It was a small tradition that they had, getting together at least once a week and catching up with each other.

Usually, it was for brunch (really, it was lunch) since that was the easiest time for them to meet up. Wirt paused his playlist and called Sara.

 _“Hey,”_ Sara’s voice was bright and cheerful on the other end, _“Is Chinese food okay? You like orange chicken and fried rice, right?” Wirt could hear her getting into her car and starting it up. There was rustling on the other end as Sara no doubt got comfortable and made sure everything was set up for safe travels._

“Yeah. Why are you coming over?”

 _“You don’t want me to come over and bring sweet, delicious, crispy, orange chicken?”_ If Sara didn’t know Wirt any better, she would find him rude. She didn’t seem to mind his question and just took it as a chance to tease him.

“Of course I want orange chicken,” Wirt pouted (but he would deny that he was pouting), “Just wanted to know what made you want to come over tonight. Don’t you have work in the morning?” Wirt sat up from where he laid on the floor.

_“I just wanted to bring my lovely friend who’s a hard-at-work poet something to eat. How’s the new collection going, by the way?”_

Wirt hadn’t made much process. “I’m working on it,” he said.

_“Anything really good so far?”_

“I have a few, but for the most part, everything sounds too processed to me,” Wirt’s publisher was getting annoyed. He wasn’t scheduled with a bad time crunch but they still wanted to see something.

 _“You don’t have any actual inspiration or something?”_  Sara asked.

“Not really,” Wirt admitted.

 _“You could just wax poetry about me like you used to,”_  Sara teased gently.

His face automatically began to warm and he made a few noises from embarrassment, “I? You know what.”

_“They weren’t bad poems!”_

“Stop it,” Wirt mumbled, feeling even more embarrassed although he did feel amused by the memories Sara brought up.

 _“I’m just saying, if you can just revert back to your roots of waxing poetry then you’ll be fine,”_ Sara laughed on the other end. _“Maybe you can write something about all of the paranormal stuff that’s happening right now.”_

“There’s not much happening,” Wirt ran his fingers through his hair, not wanting to tell her about the dreams or Bill. The less Sara knew, the better since he didn’t want to drag her into this too. “Most of what’s happening right now is just research.”

 _“Do you think you’ll find anything out?”_  Sara asked him, he could hear the turn signal in her car.

“I kind of want to and also don’t. I don’t want to waste Dipper’s time, but I also don’t really want to uncover any supernatural big thing that ends up being bigger than all of us,” except for the secret that Wirt was sitting on. Wirt still didn’t want to get involved in something huge. He sort of wished that he could let the whole thing pass him by and he could forget about everything.

 _“Oh!”_ Sara’s voice brightened, _“Speaking of Dipper, what does he like to eat?”_

“Sara, he’s not over at the moment,” Wirt still smiled a little.

 _“Then invite him over,”_ Sara had a ‘duh’ tone in her voice like it was the simplest thing in the world, _“If he met Greg then he should meet me too,”_ Sara stated matter-of-factly.

Wirt considered it for a moment. He didn’t want to drag Sara into any of this but also knew she was going to pout about not meeting Dipper and that it was going to happen eventually if this thing did turn out bigger. “I’ll ask him,” Wirt told her, not making any promises on Dipper’s behalf.

 _“Great! Just text me everything. I’m about to pull onto the highway,”_ the school where Sara worked was a bit far.

“Will do,” Wirt promised her that much, at least. “Are you grabbing from the place near your house or mine?”

 _“The one near your place, they’re better,”_  Sara informed him. “ _Alright, see you soon, Wirt.”_

“See you soon,” Wirt repeated before hanging up. He laid there for a moment longer before texting Dipper.

[Wirt]^^  
5:30 PM  
My friend Sara (the one who’s in half of my photos) is coming over. She would like to meet you.

There was a pause between messages.

[Dipper P]^^  
5:42 PM  
I can come over then, might be a good idea to touch base with her anyway

[Wirt]^^  
5:43 PM  
What’s your favorite thing to eat from Chinese take out?

When Dipper sent Wirt his preferred food of choice (after another pause between the messages, Wirt imagined that he was busy). Wirt sent it on to Sara who’d didn't reply which was really good, considering that she was, in fact, driving. Dipper informed him that he was going to take the bus over to his apartment. Apparently, Dipper had already been out, and he felt that it was unnecessary for Wirt to pick him up only to drive back to his own apartment. Wirt didn’t have the energy to argue or any room to argue, seeing as Dipper had also already made up his mind.

So, Wirt just waited.

He didn’t just sit around and wait. He got off the floor and made sure that he looked presentable. His sweater was a bit wrinkled and his hair wouldn’t stay down but that was nothing out of the ordinary. At least his apartment wasn’t a giant mess since Wirt had made sure it looked decent before Greg had stayed over (Wirt didn’t think he was messy, he was just unorganized to most people, it was his own form of organization).

Wirt hated waiting for people to come over. It was anxiety-inducing and he couldn’t sit still, but he also felt that he had to sit still or otherwise he would feel rushed when they did come over. He was just left to fiddle around and wait, awkwardly, until someone did arrive.

Dipper was first to arrive, which made sense since Sara had to grab food for all of them. “Hey,” Wirt greeted him, letting him through the door. Dipper kicked his shoes off.

“Hey,” he was wearing his glasses that evening and Wirt caught himself staring.

“Were you working on something before you came over here?” Wirt asked him, Dipper made himself comfortable with no issue on Wirt’s loveseat.

Dipper nodded, “Sort of checking out environmental factors around your area, trying to see if there’s anything in the energy around here that could be drawing stuff to you guys or if it’s just you.”

The energy around a place. Dipper had mentioned that before, “Anything?”

Dipper shook his head, “Nothing environmental here. I think the only environment that affects you is probably the pond or the woods near the pond where you originally fell in.”

“That would make sense,” it was where everything began, after all. “Did you go to school for this stuff?” Wirt asked.

“In a way? I went in to study engineering, but then I ended up taking a year off and I haven’t really found the time to go back,” Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. “Dad is still really mad about that one,” Mabel had finished college. Dipper enjoyed learning, he just didn’t like the process of college and school. Why did he have to spend so much money on something that is considered essential?

Wirt raised an eyebrow, “Do you think you’re going to go back at some point?”

Dipper shrugged, “Maybe. I don’t know, I don’t like traditional education. I did great in school but like I mentioned before, I get bored and interested in other things easier. I just kind of want to do my own thing.”

“I get that. I started school majoring in interior design because there’s money there, but I switched to English. I don’t think what you do matters as long as you’re able to have a home and you’re happy.” College hadn’t been that great in Wirt’s opinion anyway. Sure, his degree was useful but he didn’t really do much with it and it was expensive.

“Exactly. I’m pretty well-funded, and I might take time to go back. Probably get a degree in anthropology or in something where I can twist it into my job,” Dipper scratched his cheek. “Or maybe I’ll go back into a math-related degree, it wasn’t like it wasn’t fun.”

“Gross. I hated math,” Wirt admitted. “I mean I could understand it but why?”

“Man math is fun, you’re just looking at it wrong. It’s basically a giant puzzle and there’s different ways to get to a single solution, it’s great!” Dipper grinned at him.

“No thanks. Math became terrible as soon as they introduced things like sigmas and stuff in 11th grade, there are so many unnecessary things in math,” Wirt rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “I majored in English for a reason.”

“Reading for school sucks though,” Dipper groaned this time.

“Hey, I found some of my favorite books by reading for school,” Wirt didn’t find the harm in school reading.

“What’s your favorite book?” Dipper asked.

“ _The Bell Jar_ by Sylvia Plath, but _Good Omens_  by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett is a close second,” Wirt answered.

“I should have expected that. Poetry guy and all makes sense if you like her prose too,” Dipper nodded.

“It’s a really heartbreaking story, especially when you consider that it was semi-autobiographical,” Wirt didn’t want to be overly dramatic and say that it changed his life as a teenager. That teen him had managed to find a connection there with the development of Esther’s depression.

“It is,” Dipper agreed with him.

“What’s your favorite book?” Wirt asked.

Dipper paused for a moment, thinking back on all of the things he had read. He had read a _lot_ of books, for school and also just for his own enjoyment. “Probably _IT_  by Stephen King since it was the first “real” book that I was allowed to read. Plus it deals with kids dealing with some creepy stuff that happens to be universally important. It’s right up my alley. I also really liked The Sandman series from Neil Gaiman.”

“I read that too, I do have a lot of questions for Stephen King though,” there were certainly parts of the book that Wirt could have gone without.

“I think we all have questions, dude. I mean, I don’t think that guy is okay. He’s way to focused on genitalia,” Dipper bit his lower lip, yeah, there were also parts of the book that Dipper wanted to erase from existence.

“Have you read any of his son’s books? He writes under the name of Joe Hill. He sort of followed his father with supernatural horror stories,” Wirt was already getting up and heading to his bookshelf. “Greg got into his books a while ago.” He liked horror books but they weren’t his favorite, granted Wirt would read anything you gave him as long as it didn’t kick up his fight or flight response.

“No, I haven’t. Is he any good?” Dipper followed him over to the bookshelf. The two of them were standing shoulder to shoulder and Wirt ignored the brief glimpse of contact they had.

“I think a few of his books are really good, hold on,” Wirt bent down to find the one he was looking for. He pulled it out and stood fully to his height, facing Dipper with the book in his hands.

Wirt wasn’t taller than Dipper by a whole lot but Dipper still had to look up at him. For a brief moment, his eyes were caught on a fallen eyelash on Wirt’s cheek. He noticed that there was also the slightest hint of freckles on his face as well. They were very faint, being almost the same color as the rest of Wirt’s skin.

“It’s one of his earlier books,” Wirt’s voice brought him back into focus. The book was hardcover, on the front it read _NOS4A2_ , “It’s about a girl named Victoria who can find things and she has a bike that can take her anywhere. She meets Manx who has this place called “Christmasland” and he takes her there, but she manages to escape. The book follows her when she’s older and she has a kid who Manx takes. That’s the basic plot synopsis.” Wirt handed him the book.

“You can borrow it if you want to,” he offered it to him.

Dipper looked at his face and then at the book in his hand, “Are you sure?” He asked, feeling a tight feeling in his chest.

Wirt shrugged and smiled, it was small but charming in its own way, his smile was crooked. “I’m offering to you, aren’t I? I read it already and you can probably enjoy it. Read it in between working and stuff.” Wirt shrugged his shoulders and Dipper took the book.

“Does it come with a frog bookmark?” Dipper asked him, smiling a little bit.

“I think I’m fresh out of those, sorry. Maybe try Greg?” Wirt seemed amused by the comment.

“Disappointing,” Dipper poked Wirt gently in the arm with the book.

“I know, I know. I’m the disappointing brother. I don’t have a whole armies supply of frog-related items,” Wirt sighed dramatically. There was a knock on the door, “Oh, that must be Sara.” Wirt left him alone, holding the book to answer the door.

Dipper examined the book. There weren’t any dog ears but there were folds that must have been made by accident, a page he flipped too seemed to have a stain from tea or coffee. The front door opening made Dipper look away from the book.

Sara was shorter than Wirt, almost a full head shorter. She was wearing a peacoat over a sweatshirt promoting a local high school. “Hey!” Sara’s eyes landed on him quickly. She handed the food to Wirt, who took it without a word and took off his jacket. “I’m Sara,” she said, going over to him after shucking off her shoes and shaking his hand.

“Dipper,” he introduced himself.

“I brought food,” Sara let go of his hand. “Wirt’s been telling me about you.”

“Good things, I hope?” Dipper looked over at the kitchen where Wirt had gone into. Wirt’s head popped out for a moment.

“Plates?” He offered.

Both Sara and Dipper nodded and thanked him.

“Good things,” Sara assured Dipper. She sat down on Wirt’s well-worn and loved couch, “You have to have a lot of interesting stories.” Wirt came back with plates (and some forks, just in case since he didn’t know if Dipper could use chopsticks and rice is hard to eat with those things).

“I bet you do too. You work at a high school, right?” Dipper was going based off of her sweatshirt, which didn’t seem like it was an old one from her high school days.

“Yep! I coach girls wrestling in the winter and do marching band stuff in the fall. I teach all of the band related classes though,” Sara grinned. “I convinced Wirt here to join marching band and all of that stuff back in high school,” she gestured to Wirt, who looked at Dipper.

“I play clarinet,” he admitted to him.

Dipper smiled, “I play sousaphone.”

Wirt seemed a little surprised, “Really?”

“Yeah, I was always in the 3rd chair at the most but I just thought it was fun to play. Plus band kids are interesting to be around,” Dipper scratched the back of his neck.

“Band kids are a hot mess,” Sara laughed. “It’s funny because being on the supervisor end of stuff now I have to feel sorry for all my past band teachers. I wasn’t _that_ kid but still.” Wirt handed them both their food and Sara accepted her with a small thanks, Dipper doing the same.

“I think the worst type of band kid, any kid really, is the one who’s incredibly overconfident,” Dipper mentioned as he began to eat.

“Oh my god! Those kids who thought that they should be section leaders but didn’t put in any of the actual energy to be a section leader were the worst,” Sara frowned, “There’s a few kids like that now but I don’t think they’re super bad.”

“I don’t think anyone can be worse than Jason Funderberker,” Wirt commented, poking around his food.

“Your frog?” Dipper raised his brows, confused.

“No, that’s Jason Funderburker, it’s spelled differently,” Sara told Dipper, which didn’t help Dipper at all.

“He was this guy we went to high school with. He was just… ugh, the total package,” Wirt felt some old grudge build inside of his chest and felt a bit childish at still being a bit jealous of some kid from high school.

Sara rolled her eyes, “You know there’s no reason to still dislike him.”

“I know,” Wirt sighed and Sara patted his knee.

“If it’s any help I still want to fight this kid named Trevor from high school. I was stuck with him for most of AP Bio junior year,” Dipper hated Trevor.

“Trevors tend to be jerks,” Sara agreed.

“Your cousin is named Trevor.”

“I still stand by my original statement. I love that kid but he’s a jerk,” Sara shook her head a little bit.

The conversation launched into something else. Dipper and Sara chatting amicably back and forth, the two of them getting along well enough. So far there hadn’t been any direct supernatural questions on Dipper’s part, most of it being Sara interested in what he did and the type of research that he did. Wirt sat there, silently, for the most part. The two of them were engaged in conversation and Wirt was more than happy to just let the two of them talk and take the backseat in conversation. He wasn't feeling very social at the moment, all things considered.

Sitting on the dream he had made him feel guilty and he wanted to just think about and sulk in his own pity.

Wirt looked up from his food, glancing at Sara who had a wide smile on her face. He looked over at Dipper who had a matching grin. Wirt tried to catch up with what they were saying.

He got distracted, however, because something was on Dipper’s thumb apparently and dipper brought it up to his mouth and sucked on it gently. He wasn’t able to stop looking and Dipper met his eyes. Wirt averted his gaze quickly, Sara was staring at him now but she didn’t say anything. A small smile curled at the edge of her lips and she looked like she realized something.

Wirt ignored the expression.

The conversation picked up again, Wirt actually joining in this time. It was relieving that the conversation didn’t get close to the situation Wirt and Greg were dealing with. It got later, and by the time they were all done eating and the conversation began to lag, the night was definitely getting closer to ending.

Sara looked at the time on her phone. “I should probably go,” she said, standing and stretching. “Work tomorrow and all that jazz,” she pocketed her phone and began to collect her things, helping Wirt clean up as she did. Dipper got up to help too, and eventually, everything was cleaned up (well not everything, Wirt still needed to dishes and deal with leftovers but he could do that when both of them were gone).

“I’ll see you later?” Sara asked Wirt when her coat and shoes were on. Wirt nodded and she gave him a small hug.

“It was nice to meet you,” Dipper smiled at Sara, who drew him into a hug before she could be stopped. Dipper didn’t seem to mind, at least.

“It was nice to meet you too. Make sure that Wirt doesn’t get possessed or something,” Sara joked.

“Drive safe,” Wirt told her.

“I will. Have a good night guys,” Sara said before leaving the house. There was a moment of silence.

“She’s really nice,” Dipper said.

“Yeah, she is,” having been best friends since high school made Wirt have a lot of warm feelings for Sara. “We actually tried dating once but we’re way better as friends,” he couldn’t even think of Sara in a romantic manner anymore. They were too much like… family now. Even thinking about his past feelings for her made him feel weirded out.

“It’s nice to have close friends like that. I have a friend named Wendy and our relationship is similar,” Dipper smiled fondly at the thought of her.

“Is she from Gravity Falls?” It seemed like most of Dipper’s memories came from there.

“Yeah, she is,” Dipper nodded.

Wirt fell silent for a moment. Dipper was in a good mood and Wirt felt the anxiety bubbling his chest and his stomach twisted into knots. It felt like the words were struggling to come out of his mouth and he steeled himself after a moment.

“You know a Bill Cipher, right?” Dipper’s head turned so fast to look at him, his brows furrowed and his face turned serious and dark.

“Has he contacted you?” Dipper asked him. “Have you made any sort of deal?”

“Well, yes, and no. I haven’t made a deal, or uh, anything like that. But he’s definitely in my dreams. He said that’s not here to cause trouble? I don’t think he is, anyway,” Wirt rubbed his arm, shrinking into himself.

“You can’t trust him,” Dipper told Wirt, “He literally tried to take over the world. Nothing good comes from him.”

“I don’t trust him,” was Bill even a him? “He just keeps popping up and he gave a warning. Of something. I don’t know what it exactly is. But, but you might so,” Wirt shrugged. “He really just wanted me to pass the message on to you. I don’t think he wants a deal out of me,” Wirt still wasn’t sure. Dipper stared at him for a moment, his posture more guarded than usual.

He didn’t look like he trusted what Wirt was saying, Wirt couldn’t tell if it was because of himself or if it was simply that the past between Dipper and Bill was so bad. “What sort of warning?” Dipper asked him, looking concerned but still not trusting at the same time.

“He didn’t give me a _direct_  warning, exactly. Just mentioned that there’s something for me to worry about,” Wirt stated, giving all the information he knew.

Dipper’s frown deepened. “You have no idea what he was referring to?”

Wirt shook his head, “No. But he does, and he can’t talk to you so he just spoke to me.”

Dipper fell silent, Wirt could see the gears turning in his head. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Dipper asked him.

“I’m not really sure. I don’t know why he wants your help, or what he’s even warning me against. I didn’t know what to do with that information,” Wirt admitted. “I’m sorry for not telling you about this earlier but I have no idea what is going on here.” Wirt was in an odd situation.

Dipper was quiet again. “If he talks to you again, tell me right away. He won’t be able to reach me because of these things,” Dipper pulled up one of his sleeves, showing a sleeve-style tattoo on his arm that Wirt had known about but hadn’t seen till then. “I’ll try to figure out what’s going on. Get all the information sorted out and see what we’re going to go up against.” Dipper promised him.

“Okay,” Wirt nodded.

“Keep your ear to the ground. I’ll arrange something to protect you too, the best I can anyway without knowing what’s going on,” Dipper chewed his thumb nail as he thought it over. Wirt just nodded again, feeling helpless in this situation. “I’ll give you all of the information I can.”

“Alright,” Wirt stated. He led Dipper over to the door. “I’ll keep you updated,” he promised. He felt around his neck for his chain before remembering that he hadn’t worn it that day.

“Have a good night, Wirt,” Dipper told him.

“You too,” Wirt gave Dipper a very small, slightly nervous smile. Dipper left for the night and Wirt exhaled a breath he had been holding back. Wirt leaned against the front door and looked at the brown stain on the ceiling. He should try to fix that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, trying not to self project onto wirt:


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unbeta'd

Dipper was able to hold his panicking back until he got to his hotel room. Barely, anyways. He was pretty sure that if he chewed his lip any harder it would begin to bleed. 

He didn’t bother with pleasantries, heading straight up to his room and avoiding any staff members that saw him on the way there. He practically ran into there, closing the door behind him quickly and if it wasn’t for the way that hotels built their doors it would have slammed loudly. He leaned against it, taking off his worn, old hat and running his fingers through his hair. When he did so he pushed his bangs out of his face and for a moment he just stood there, staring into the darkness of his hotel room and holding onto the strands of his hair hard enough for there to be a bit of pain.

He tried to calm himself. His heart was beating in his chest and to be frank, he felt ridiculous. Almost humiliated, even though he knew that he wasn’t being watched (at least, he was sure that he wasn’t being watched). A large part of him was also frustrated, an annoyed sort of anger that made him itch all over, made him physically uncomfortable. 

Dipper was frustrated with Wirt, but also knew he wasn’t angry at him. Even though the thought of what he kept from him made him annoyed, he knew that his anger wasn’t directed at Wirt. not really. Even though every time he thought about why he was angry his brain flashed back to Wirt, trying to find a someone to point a finger at. Despite him knowing who, or  _ what _ he should be pointing at. 

The fact that Bill was back made Dipper’s head hurt. It made his everything hurt. 

And now that he was older, it wasn’t like he could call either of his Grunkles. They weren’t there to help him and he was pretty sure that contacting them via spirit world wasn’t exactly a great idea given the amount of energy that it took also the fact that they hated that the last time he had to do it (it was necessary, that one point).

Even if they were alive and well still, Dipper still wouldn’t call them first. He turned on the lights and grabbed his phone from his back pocket after coming to terms with what exactly was going on. Dipper clicked on Mabel’s contact faster than he could blink. 

It only took a few rings before Mabel answered the phone.  _ “Hey, bro-bro! I was just thinking about calling you!”  _ Her cheery tone of voice brought him some comfort. Pacifica was right about them living in each other’s back pockets. 

“Mabel,” Dipper greeted her. “There’s a problem. I mean. There was already a problem. But now it’s a bigger problem! And it could get bigger and --”

_ “What’s Dipper freaking out about?”  _ Pacifica’s voice came on next, she sounded a bit distant. Dipper could hear the sounds of metal in the background and wondered for a brief moment if they were cooking dinner. It would be about that time. The thought left as quickly as it came and he went back into his panic mode.

“Am I on speaker?” Dipper blurted out automatically, feeling exposed even though Pacifica was around Mabel almost as much — if not more — than he was, “You know what? Forget that. There’s an  _ emergency _ Mabel.”

_ “What level of emergency? A “help me from where you are” or a “fly to Massachusetts” emergency?”  _ Mabel asked and Dipper could hear the worry in her voice. 

“I-I don’t know. It might be a “fly to Massachusetts’ emergency,” Dipper had begun to pace up and down the room. “Bill’s back.”

Silence on the other line.  _ “Are you sure?” _ Mabel asked him, and he could hear Pacifica in the background ( _ “Does he mean Bill-Bill? The guy who turned my dad’s face all weird? That Bill?” _ ).

“He’s apparently been in the brother’s dreams. Wirt’s really the only one out of the two of them to see him or to even directly talk to him,” Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose.

“ _ Have they made a deal?”  _ Mabel sounded panicky now.  _ “Thanks, Paz.” _ Her voice was away for a moment as she addressed wife, Dipper could hear something cling gently against a glass and he automatically assumed that Pacifica had brought Mabel something to drink to quell her nerves.

“No. No deals, not if I can help it anyway,” Dipper paused and let out a heavy sigh. “Apparently he’s only talking through them — or really, through Wirt, now — because he can’t talk to me.” 

_ “What do you mean? Is he possessing Wirt? Dipper the last time that happened —” _

“No! No, he’s not possessing Wirt. Wirt’s still Wirt, as far as I can tell anyway,” Sara hadn’t seemed to detect anything off about her best friend and Greg had seemed fine around him too. “He’s just popping up in his dreams.”

There was a pregnant pause before Mabel spoke again.  _ “Why? It can’t just be that he wants to talk to you. There has to be more than that.” _

Dipper chewed on his thumbnail, “I don’t know why. We defeated him so long ago so I don’t understand why he would want to “talk” to me now. He knows I’m protected, that you are too. But there’s no reason for him to drag Wirt and Greg into this, the two of them were unconnected the two of us.” So there was a bigger reason why Bill wanted to talk to Dipper. But  _ why _ Dipper? Why someone who had defeated him? 

What could be driving Bill to talk to him of all the options he had? Surely there was some teenager fucking around with things they shouldn’t be messing with (like him) out there who Bill could contact easier. Bill didn’t need to go through Greg or Wirt, and in the end, why had he chosen Wirt to focus on? Dipper had defeated him when he was  _twelve_ and Bill contacting him now through someone else was so odd. Who would want to talk to the person that literally defeated them as a child?

There were so many questions and Dipper hadn’t even begun to unearth the answers.

“There’s more to it but I just don’t know  _ what _ .”

“ _ Dipper,”  _ Pacifica’s voice now, closer, clearer.  _ “You know what Bill is capable of. I don’t want another Weridmageddon. You need to figure out what he wants.” _

“I know,” as much Dipper hated to admit it, he needed to talk to Bill.

_ “I can try to get to Massachusetts as soon as possible, _ ” Mabel was back.  _ “I’m not letting you deal with Bill alone.” _

“Mabel,” he began to scold her, going to say that it wasn’t necessary for her to come. Dipper didn’t want her involved if he could help it but he also knew that she was always involved no matter what, and once her mind was made up there was no stopping Mabel. She was like a train going 100 miles per hour and everyone else was just going to have to deal with it. “Okay. I’m going to try to do more research. Keep my ear to the ground and see if I can gather something before I talk to him,” Dipper didn’t want this entire thing to rest in the hands of Bill of all entities. Bill was definitely the worst one that Dipper had met (and Dipper, weirdly, had met a few as he grew older, one would be surprised by the hidden gods or entities in general that walked among everyone else).

_ “Make sure that no one makes a deal. And that includes  _ you,  _ nerd,”  _ Pacifica was back.

“I know. Don’t worry.”

_ “Maybe if I worry a little bit you won’t make Mabel go grey by thirty,”  _ Dipper could practically hear Pacifica rolling her eyes. 

_ “Stay safe, Dip Dop. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, love you,”  _ Mabel told him.

“Love you too,” Dipper replied, meaning it. The line went dead when Mabel hung up and Dipper collapsed on the small couch in his hotel room. He stretched out for a moment. Not that long ago, Wirt was sitting on the same couch, telling Dipper about his dreams. Dipper felt dumb for not catching it earlier. There were some warning signs, wasn’t there?

He had been in denial, Dipper knew that. The way that Wirt described the dreams, there wasn’t a way for Dipper to connect it to the Unknown. And now Wirt and Greg had Bill bothering them, laughing at them in their dreams like they were animals in the zoo. Something for Bill to seek amusement from. Dipper feared the worst, that he would see Wirt’s eyes glow yellow when they shouldn’t, the snake-like pupils and the sheer joy from pain that Bill got.

Dipper didn’t waste any more time, reaching towards one of his many books and cracking it open. If Bill hadn’t made a deal yet, then he was bound to. Even if he said that he just wanted to talk to Dipper, Dipper was going to take whatever Bill told Wirt with a grain of salt. Still, he was going to follow up on whatever was making Bill reach out to Dipper, or rather, possible reasons for Bill to reach out to him.

It was already late, beginning to reach the early morning. The clock had already hit two o’clock and it was bound to become three soon.

He picked up a pen, flipping through any information he had on Bill. Dipper didn’t want to talk to the being that caused an apocalypse (granted, it had been a contained apocalypse but it was an apocalypse nonetheless). He chewed on his pen, feeling especially concerned about Wirt. Poor guy was just in the middle of all of this. Dipper really hoped that Bill was just trying to get another vessel, and was trying to throw red herrings at them. 

That, Dipper could deal with easily. 

  
Wirt wasn’t able to sleep. He sort of just laid in bed with a pillow over his face, alone in silence with his own thoughts. He took the pillow off and stared up at the darkness of his ceiling, his eyes slowly adjusting to make a clearer picture of what he was looking at. Wirt was exhausted but he couldn’t close his eyes and relax. 

No matter how hard he tried to force himself to relax and willed himself to sleep, nothing overcame him. And he didn’t have anything to take that would help him, since sleeping pills tended to make him feel groggy for the whole next day. He had already tried to drink a tea but that didn’t help very much, just making him feel more tired but not helping him actually fall asleep much to his chagrin. 

He rolled onto his side, curling up in the fetal position. His mind flashed back briefly to his conversation with Dipper and he bit back an embarrassed groan. He really should have figured out a better way to tell him about Bill. And now Wirt knew that things were going to just become worse. Instinctively something was telling him that this was only the beginning of it all. Of course, he knew that Dipper’s reaction to Bill might be swaying him towards the side of over anxious thoughts about what was to come. Plus, the fact that Bill hadn’t been exactly kind in his previous dreams. Wirt still couldn’t help but feel dread welling up in his chest.

Which, really, was a common thing. He also had to admit that. There was something terrible about the constant paranoia that he had developed as he grew up. He was constantly on alert, his anxiety seeming to have skyrocketed after the age of 15 (everything else too). 

So, Wirt lay in bed, feeling incredibly paranoid for no reason and that something terrible was going to happen and he was probably the cause of that terrible event. He was also 25 and felt that at this point he should have known how to have his shit together. 

Wirt reached over to his bedside table, grabbing his phone and unplugging it from the charger It was already 2:40 and Wirt wondered if getting sleep at this point was a futile attempt. It wouldn’t be unusual for him to pull an all-nighter.  Wirt wondered if he even wanted to sleep in the first place. Yes, he was exhausted. And yes, his eyes were already beginning to burn and sleep sounded incredibly appealing. But if he slept then he was pretty sure that he would come into contact with Bill again. Even if the dream manipulator hadn’t done anything too malicious towards him, Wirt was still nervous with his presence.

For a moment he wondered if Dipper was awake. Wirt didn’t want to disturb him at this late of an hour, especially because he felt that they hadn’t said goodbye that day on good terms. But Wirt didn’t want to just scroll through dumb sites, or play any games. He got out of bed, stepping lightly as if he might disturb someone else even though he lived alone.

The shadows of the room haunted him. In the darkness, his vision was warped and his brain tried to make sense and tried to make things that weren’t there. Faces that didn’t actually exist. Wirt rubbed at his eyes and just stumbled around his apartment in the dark until he found the pair of headphones he had sort of tossed carelessly on his coffee table.

He made the shuffle back to his room and crawled back into his bed, finding a playlist on Spotify and playing it, earbuds plugged in. He placed his arm over his eyes as if he was trying to cover them from some sort of light. 

The soothing music seemed to help, somehow. Wirt felt himself falling asleep quicker than expected.

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

His room was grey when he woke up. Someone was humming and Wirt turned behind him, seeing Bill looking over items in his room. 

“What are you doing?” Wirt felt himself bristle up, automatically becoming defensive.

“HEY THERE CHUCKLES!” Bill greeted him. If he had a mouth, Wirt felt that there would be a smug grin on his face. “JUST LOOKING FOR SOMETHING.”

“What?” Wirt asked him, his mouth felt dry.

“IT’LL HELP YOU IN THE LONG RUN,” Bill said, not giving Wirt a clear answer. 

“What will?”

“I SAW YOU TALKED TO PINETREE,” Bill changed the subject easily. “PASS A MESSAGE TO HIM WILL YOU?” Bill swung around a small cane, reminding Wirt of an old cartoon character. Something zainy that was going to start tap dancing. “TELL HIM TO LOOK BEHIND THE CURTAIN. UNDER THE TREES.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Wirt felt frustrated. “Can’t you be noncryptic? You said you needed me to help you, which in the end is going to help me? Help you do what? Why am I involved with this?” Irritation crept into his voice.

“YOU’LL FIND OUT SOOn, CHUCKLES,” Bill’s body flashed, showing images that went by too quickly for Wirt to really understand. “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE VESSEL AFTER ALL.”

“A vessel for  _ what _ ?” Wirt crossed his arms over his chest, “You said you’re not going to possess me so what is!”

“YOU’LL HAVE TO WAIT FOR PINETREE TO MATCH UP FIRST. SORRY, CHUCKLES, BUT DON’T WORRY. YOU HAVE TIME.” A clock made up Bill’s body for a moment before it went back to the usual yellow bricked look. “SWEET DREAMS.”

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

Wirt woke up with sunlight filtering on his face. He didn’t remember any dreams after the interaction with Bill. He rolled over, detangling himself from his earphones and sitting up. He checked the time and sucked in a breath. It was already twelve. Wirt usually slept in but he didn’t typically sleep in until noon. 

There were a few messages on his phone, but he ignored them. Wirt found DIpper’s contact and called him quickly. The sooner Wirt told him about the latest Bill interaction, the better for everyone involved.

_ “Hey. Is there something wrong?”  _ Dipper asked him without prompting, his voice sounded rough. Wirt wondered if he had just woken up too. Dipper sounded nice. He also wondered if he had expected Wirt to call him with an issue. There hadn't been a pause between the greeting and question. He probably did, considering the situation. It wasn't like they chatted for the fun of it at this point, Wirt found himself feeling foolish for even wondering that in the first place but blamed it on exhaustion.

“Bill spoke to me again,” Wirt told him.

_ “What did he say? Did he do anything? Are you hurt?” _

“I don’t think he wants to hurt me. At least, he doesn’t seem that way? It’s hard to read a literal demon. He said that I was supposed to be the vessel, and he was in my room searching for something that would help me. Whatever that means. He didn’t really go into specifics, kept brushing over everything,” Wirt pinched the bridge of his nose. “He wanted me to tell you to look behind the curtain. Underneath the trees,” Wirt was a poet. He specialized in flowery language. 

This situation made him frustrated at it rather than enjoy it. 

_ “Did he give you any hints about what you’re a vessel for? Anything else other than curtain and trees, _ ” Wirt could hear Dipper turning pages on the other end.

Wirt tried to remember, flopping back onto his bed. “No. I don’t think so. Dipper, what do you think he meant by something to help me?”

_ “If you’re going to be possessed — which you’re  _ not,  _ Especially if I can help it — But if you are, then it’s most likely some form of talisman. We just need to know what type. Most of the time you can get by with a personal item but if it’s something especially strong or specific we might need to look further,”  _ Dipper sounded distracted but Wirt reassured himself that ti was simple because he was actually searching for answers. 

“How do we make something so it protects me?”

_ “Not to sound terribly cheesy or anything, but usually it’s sort of just the objects importance to you that helps. We might add a few extra things, like unicorn hair, or something like that. But that can come in later once we actually locate an item that helps you out,”  _ Dipper explained to him. 

“And the curtain and trees thing?” Wirt thought about the Unknown. The twisted Edelwood trees, leaking black oil. Greg, coughing up leaves. Under the trees…

_ “I’ll have to think more on that one,” _ Dipper told him. Wirt wanted to ask if it had to do with the Unknown forest. Was it the Beast somehow trying to use him again? Wirt just pressed his lips into a thin line as he thought about it. Both of the men went silent, Wirt could hear very faint noises from Dipper’s side of things. 

“Could it have to do with the Unknown? Or maybe just the forest nearby where I grew up,” Wirt picked at his bedsheets. His morning breath tasted disgusting but he didn’t want to excuse himself from the phone call yet.

_ “It might,”  _ Dipper said.  _ “I was thinking that too.” _

“A lot of the dreams I have take place near the forest, or in it, if I’m not near or in the water. But that could just be the whole… ordeal taking effect in general,” Wirt told Dipper. Wirt wondered what “under the trees” meant though. Were they going to have to dig? He really hoped not, because he was pretty sure that that would require breaking some sort of law.

_ “Under the trees… _ ” Dipper mumbled, sounding a million miles away. He kept repeating it over and over, and Wirt was able to recognize when someone was getting caught up in their own thoughts.

“Should I hang up now?” Wirt asked, feeling a bit amused by the very quiet mumblings he couldn’t really understand.

_ “Oh! Um, hey, actually I did have something I need to tell you,” _ Dipper came back down to earth.  _ “My sister, Mabel, is flying in. I couldn’t really stop her, mentioning Bill was enough to make her panic about it too. But she’ll be really helpful if she’s actually here anyway.” _

“Oh, that’s cool,” Wirt wasn’t sure if he was allowed to react negatively in this situation. Not that he wanted to. He understood how important siblings are, and Mabel and Dipper were twins, weren’t they? So they probably had a connection that Wirt couldn’t touch with a ten foot pole. “Do you need a ride to the airport to pick her up?”

_ “I don’t want to put you out like that man,” _ Dipper tried to brush him off. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Wirt liked driving. It was sort of relaxing, most of the time. Plus, he wanted to meet Mabel. “When is she coming?”

_ “She sent me the details at like 7am before she hopped on so she should be arriving soon, actually. I was planning on meeting her there by bus or something.” _

“Is she flying into Boston?”

_ “Yeah,”  _ Dipper confirmed. 

That meant that he needed to grab Dipper fast. He told such, and hung up to actually get dressed. Wirt got ready as fast as he could, making sure he had everything before climbing into his car and going towards Dipper’s hotel.

Wirt got to his hotel a lot faster than Dipper had expected. Dipper climbed into the passenger seat and looked at him, “Hey, dude.” He greeted him. Wirt looked like a comfortable school librarian in his sweater, a flannel underneath.

“Hi,” Wirt greeted him. He spared Dipper a glance before pulling out of the hotel parking lot. Dipper was pretty sure that he had more sunken eyes than usual. It wasn’t like Dipper wasn’t used to pulling all-nighters, so he didn’t feel super tired like he probably should’ve. There was also excitement thrumming through him at the idea of seeing his sister again. “Do you know what gate she’ll be at?” 

“Yeah, gate A,” Dipper told him, giving Wirt the details to Mabel’s landing. Wirt listened and nodded to what he was saying. Eventually, silence fell between them. “How are you feeling?” Dipper broke it. He wasn’t great with people’s feelings, mainly since communicating his own feelings was something of a difficult task. But Wirt was going through an odd experience.

“Honestly? Just annoyed,” Wirt told him. Dipper wondered if there was more to how he felt but he didn’t prode him further. “I would prefer to have a night without having a vague triangle talk to me but it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen.”

“Yeah, Bill is… he’s something,” Dipper stroked his arm, fingers running over the tattoos instinctively even though there was fabric covering them. “My Grunkle Ford was the first one to run into him. He’s sort of been bothering my family since,” Dipper didn’t have any unresolved issues towards Ford. Maybe he did, when he was younger. But all had been forgiven quickly. Not like Dipper could do anything about it. He had looked up to the man when he was younger, and he still did even when he was now in his twenties and Grunkle Ford was gone.

“Most families pass down jewerly,” Wirt commented quietly. 

Dipper smiled, “Yeah. We’re very unorthodox.” 

“Please tell me that there’s some ghost haunting your childhood home. I think that would really fit your story nicely,” Wirt said and Dipper shook his head, the smile still on his face.

“Nah. Piedmont is pretty boring. California definitely has some weird spots but Piedmont is pretty much your standard suburbian city. My parents aren’t really into the whole conspiracy and weird things, anyway. It sort of skipped that generation,” Dipper shifted in his seat.

“My mom is superstitious, but my grandma on her side is the worst. She’s like, every abuela in all supernatural movies ever where if your toast lands the wrong way she thinks that you need to be dragged to the church,” Wirt didn’t look at him, carefully merging onto the highway. Dipper thought that the way he drove and the car he drove was very dad-like. Wirt didn’t seem like much of the dad friend though, not at first anyway.

“You’re latino?” Dipper asked.

“On my mom’s side. My dad is super white, it’s the same with Greg too,” Wirt answered.

“Mabel and I are Jewish, technically. You know, like ethnicity and stuff like that. We weren’t really raised with any religion but both of our parents were raised Jewish and we can trace our history pretty far back,” Dipper waved his hand casually as he spoke. 

“That’s cool.”

“It’s nice. We grew up celebrating every holiday because of Mabel. Which is cool, but also I think my paternal grandfather is still mad that we didn’t have b’nei mitzvah. In our defense, we were in Gravity Falls when we turned thirteen,” Dipper shrugged. Wirt smiled a little bit.

“Grandparents are sort of pushy, aren’t they?”

“They are  _ so  _ pushy,” Dipper agreed. “Maybe it’s just that generation.”

“The Pushiest Generation.”

“The Last Generation to Own a House,” Dipper commented. Wirt laughed lightly and Dipper felt something warm in his chest at the sound.

“Let’s not forget that our generation is the generation that ruined social activity.”

“Oh right! How can I forget, us Gen Z’ers and our damn smartphones,” Dipper mimicked the voice of someone old. Wirt smiled a little bit more and Dipper felt like he won some sort of prize. The rest of the drive was spent with quiet banter between the two of them. 

When they got to the airport, Wirt looked at Dipper. He seemed to be wanting to say something. Dipper looked at him, the car was turned off and he was already halfway out. “Are you coming with?” Dipper asked.

“Do you want me too?” Wirt asked, not wanting to intrude on a reunion.

Dipper shrugged, “Yeah, dude.” He said it like it was obvious. Wirt sort of stayed there for a moment longer before taking off his seat belt and following Dipper inside. 

The airport seemed to have full blast on cold air even though it was fall outside and Dipper was pretty it would start snowing any day now. He zipped up his hoodie a little bit more, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Wirt trailed after him, seeming sort of sheepish. “Airports are sort of weird, aren’t they?” Dipper looked back at Wirt, who blinked at him.

“What?” He asked, his dark eyes on Dipper now. They were framed by long eyelashes, and Dipper wondered if Wirt knew how pretty he was. 

“Airports. They’re like… gas stations at 3am when no one is awake. They just feel weird.”

Wirt tilted his head, “I guess they do. It’s sort of the same vibe as a playground in the middle of the night, or a school on a weekend or over a holiday.”

“Yes! Exactly like that,” Dipper looked at him. “I’m pretty sure it’s only because our brains can’t really process things out of context.”

“I heard about liminal spaces once,” Wirt began. Dipper was scanning the crowd for his sister, “Spots that don’t feel right because they’re like in between areas or — “ Dipper wasn’t listening anymore. He heard Mabel before he saw her.

“Dipper!” She was loud, and also running full speed towards the two of them. Wirt seemed to notice her now too, stiffening up next to Dipper like he was preparing for impact.

Mabel didn’t have a suitcase in her hands, so she flew towards Dipper with reckless abandon. She nearly took him down, tackling her twin in a tight hug. She was giggling in his ears. “Mabel!” Dipper all but squeaked when she took him down. He wrapped his arms around her, Mabel pulling him so that they were both upright. 

“Aw! Look at you! Did you grow taller since I last saw you?” Mabel poked at his cheeks, grinning. She didn’t look like someone who had just been on a five hour flight after hearing a demon from their childhood was back.

“Stop it,” Dipper waved off her hands, laughing. “It’s good that you’re here.”

“Glad to be here!” Mabel grinned. They wrapped their arms around each other again, a more stiff hug. “Pat, pat,” the two of them stated in unison, giving each other stiff and affirming pats on the back.

Wirt watched this entire whirlwind in silence.

Dipper seemed to suddenly remember his presence there, “Mabel, this is Wirt. Wirt, this is Mabel,” he pushed his sister towards Wirt even though she didn’t need to be encouraged.

“Hi!” Mabel grabbed Wirt’s hand and shook it enthusiastically. She and Dipper looked a lot alike, which was expected since they were twins. Mabel didn’t seem to be covered in as many freckles as Dipper. She wasn’t wearing glasses but Wirt could see eye contacts if he looked closely enough and she had the same light brown eyes, her smile was almost the same but it was perfected like she had had braces. She had the same curly brown hair, cropped a little bit past her shoulders, she had on a rainbow turtleneck, black shorts and leggings with stars on them.

“Hi,” Wirt greeted her back with a small smile. It looked like she was the same height as her brother too.

“Dipper, you didn’t tell me he was cute!” Mabel punched her brother’s arm. Dipper let out a soft “ow” and rubbed his bicep.

Instantly Wirt felt heat rush to his cheeks, “I- uh- t-thanks,” he stammered before steeling himself. He was a grown man, he could handle being called cute. 

Dipper’s cheeks had a light dusting of pink on them, he cleared his throat, adjusting his hat. “Where’s your stuff?” He changed the topic.

That pulled her attention away from Wirt easily. Oh,” Mabel looked around. Her grin had fallen for a moment before widening again when she spotted someone. A blonde woman was walking towards them. She was short, her hair tied up into a ponytail. She was also dragging two suitcases, one of them was bright pink and sparkly. The other was simple, a purple tag on it to mark its owner. “Sorry, Paz,” Mabel skipped up to the other woman, leaning down and kissing her cheek.

Dipper raised an eyebrow, “You brought Pacifica?”

“She was too worried to let me go on on my own,” Mabel told him. Pacifica rolled her eyes, seeming to have it mastered.

“As if I was going to let you guys deal with that creep again on your own,” she crossed her arms over her chest. She looked at Wirt, sticking out her hand. “I’m Pacifica,” she introduced herself. Her nails were manicured and painted light purple. Wirt shook her hand.

“Wirt,” while he felt nervous about Mabel’s excited energy, Pacifica was dominating and almost intimidating to just stand nearby. Wirt wasn’t sure if that was how she always was or if it was just exhaustion from a five-hour trip.

“She’s my wiiffeeeee,” Mabel wrapped her arms around Pacifica, swaying side to side and giggling, leaning down to rub their faces together. Pacifica melted a bit, indulging her wife for a moment with slightly pink cheeks before stilling Mabel, the two of them just standing close to each other with Mabel’s arms around her waist. From an outsider, it might have looked like Pacifica was just tolerating the affection. Dipper knew her well enough now to know that she was just a lot more subtle about these sorts of things.

Dipper looked over at Wirt, who seemed to be watching the two women with vague amusement. “Does your trunk have enough space for two suitcases?” Dipper asked him.

Wirt looked over at him, nodding. “It should be fine. Are you guys staying at the same hotel as Dipper?”

Mabel nodded, “Yep!”

“I’m glad there’s someone here to grab us, I did  _ not  _ want to ride in an Uber share or whatever,” Pacifica was leaning into Mabel’s side.

“I can afford more than an Uber carpool,” Dipper grumbled, sticking his hands in his pockets. Mabel patted Wirt’s arm as they began to head to the parking lot.

“Don’t worry about the two of them, they get along better than they seem to at first glance,” she whispered to Wirt almost too loud. Dipper helped Pacifica with the suitcases before Mabel rejoined her twin brother.

The four of them got into the car after making sure the suitcases were secure in the trunk. “Can we get Wendy’s?” Mabel asked from the back seat. Pacifica had made herself comfortable, laying on Mabel. Dipper had stayed in his seat up front next to Wirt, fiddling with Wirt’s phone to find something suitable that they would all like.

“Wow that’s a lot of American folk music,” Dipper eventually found a song to play, although it didn't sound like he meant it as an insult. Wirt just shrugged, it was what he listened to most of the time. The song that Dipper played was a bit more poppier than Wirt's typical taste, not that he minded. When he asked the other what it was he answered that it was something by Walk the Moon (Wirt didn't really hear the title, and was too nervous to ask a second time).

“So, Wendy’s?” Mabel asked again as they began to drive.

“Uh, sure,” Wirt agreed, Dipper looked at him and Wirt just shrugged. A very small smile quirked at the edge of Dipper’s lips.

Pacifica ended up paying for the Wendy’s, even though Wirt put up a small fight. The Pines twins both seemed willing to let her pay. 

She also slipped Wirt a twenty when they got to the hotel. “For gas,” Pacifica had said. Wirt had no idea how to react anymore. Dipper had just patted his shoulder on the way up to the girl's hotel room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the month-long hiatus, I actually died (I had my schools musical, and also the SAT and no time because of work on top of all of that) but the school year is winding down now so expect more updates


	7. Seven

Mabel and Pacifica’s room was essentially the same as Dipper’s. It was just rotated the other way, which hurt Wirt’s brain. After the two of them finished moving their luggage into the hotel room, Pacifica began to look around.

Mabel, brimming with bubbly energy, looked at Wirt with a grin. “I haven’t been in the Boston area in so long!” She spread her arms in a wide, sweeping motion, “Last time was… it was that hardcore poltergeist activity, right, Dipper?” She looked over at her twin for confirmation.

Dipper’s brows had furrowed as he was staring off into the distance. His eyes were far away, his mouth pressed into a small frown on his face. Wirt felt an overwhelming urge to write poetry on the furrow between his brows, or the way that his jaw seemed to tense up.

Mabel pulled Dipper’s attention away from whatever had him thinking so hard. His posture relaxed; his arms uncrossing and resting at his sides. He shifted his weight from one leg to another. He tilted his head as he thought, searching way back for a memory. “I thought the poltergeist was a long time ago?”

“No, you’re thinking of when we searched for the frog.” Mabel shook her head, her earrings jingling together.

“Speaking of which, you,” Pacifica pointed at Dipper with a perfectly manicured finger, “You haven’t given any updates to the blog or to the channel. Candy and Grenda have been bugging us about it since apparently, you haven’t answered them.”

Dipper rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I haven’t really had much time to look for anything interesting for a video.”

“Sorry about that.” Wirt gave Dipper a very small, sheepish smile of his own. “I know that I’m probably asking a lot from you at this point.” He picked at a stray string from his sweater.

“I think the problem you’re having is a lot more important than my channel.” Dipper looked over at Wirt. The frown was back on his face, but it was a lot more gentle than it had been before. Dipper’s thoughts kept bouncing from the fact that Bill Cipher was back to Wirt possibly being in danger to the fact that he didn’t really know much about anything at this point.

“Can you at least tell those two to stop bothering us about it?” Pacifica asked.

Mabel had gone silent, which Wirt felt was a dangerous thing if she was anything like Greg. “Pacifica and I can do a video easily. It’s Massachusetts! What isn’t haunted here?” Mabel asked with a wide grin on her face. “As long as you don’t let this whole thing stress you out, we’re here now and we can help anywhere where we’re needed.” She looked at Dipper, quirking a brow at him as if daring to be challenged.

The small part of him that was still a stubborn teenager wanted to argue but Dipper wasn’t the only person at risk here. He nodded. “I will.”

“Are you planning on contacting Bill? Outside of my dreams, anyway,” Wirt piped in.

The twins looked at each other, having a silent conversation. Pacifica didn’t seem to mind or notice. Wirt felt like he was being an odd fourth wheel when Mabel looked at Pacifica, and wordlessly said something with just a gesture of her eyebrows, to which Pacifica frowned.

All three of them turned back to look at Wirt. “Yes, we are. It’ll probably mean less strain on you. And it’ll allow us to get some clear answers from him,” Dipper finally spoke.

“You don’t have to be there! Having Bill in your dreams is bad enough, but seeing the guy in real life is way worse, trust me.” Mabel scrunched up her features, sticking out her tongue a little bit.

Wirt wanted to be there. A little bit. He felt like that he had an obligation to be there. It was probably better for him to be there too, right? Wasn’t it? He must have been making a face since Dipper placed his hand on Wirt’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to be there,” Dipper repeated. “It might be.. Beneficial for you to be there. Since Bill is using you has as the messenger and everything, but being around Bill is dangerous. Especially since you haven’t really dealt with him before.” Dipper’s hand fell away from his shoulder.

It left an impression of warmth and Wirt resisted the urge to touch where his hand had once been. “I should be there, the guy has been haunting my dreams for forever now.” Wirt didn’t mention that he also felt that he was under constant watch and that triangles were popping up in his vision more frequently than they should be.

He instantly thought about Greg. Greg, who had been underneath the same threat that Wirt was currently on. The group had mentioned that they had some sort of protection against Bill, and Wirt thought that they had protection against whatever else can grab their bodies or hurt them. Greg was exposed to all of those things and the thought of him getting hurt in any way (Greg, tangled up in roots and branches, coughing up a single leaf while his face was pale and his eyes were sunken) made Wirt’s stomach turn.

“How do you guys protect yourselves?” Wirt asked.

Pacifica gestured to Dipper’s arms. “Tattoos with sigils on them,” she told Wirt. “I have mine on my thigh. It was a lot easier than the other option of getting a metal plate in our heads.” She tapped the side of her head.

“Mine is on my shoulder.” Mabel pulled down her sweater a bit, turning around and showing Wirt the tattoo. “They mainly protect us from Bill, making sure he can’t possess us.”

“Most of my tattoos are actually just sigils to protect me from things.” Wirt wondered how many tattoos Dipper actually had and for a moment, where they all were. “We’re still going to get you a protection charm. We can also do the tattoo,” Dipper informed him.

“Greg needs protection too. Even though it doesn’t seem like he’s of any interest to Bill, or whatever else is trying to get me. I don’t want him to be in any more danger than what he’s already in.” Because of him. Because of Wirt. Something was trying to get Wirt from what Bill kept saying, and whatever was going to happen to Wirt could potentially harm Greg too.

Dipper nodded. “We’ll make sure to protect him, don’t worry.”

“When do we get to meet Greg? I wanna meet Greg! Text Greg.” Mabel looked at Wirt, getting a little bit closer.

Wirt grabbed his phone from his pocket, opening his messages and sending Greg a quick text. He waited a moment before looking at Mabel, who was already reading over his shoulder. “He should be coming over this weekend,” Wirt told her.

Mabel grinned. “Yes!” she cheered.

“Speaking of Greg, has he had any contact at all with Bill?” Dipper asked him.

Wirt shook his head. “Not for a while, he hasn’t.”

That meant that the focus was entirely on Wirt at this point. Wirt hoped that was the case. Dipper worried even more if Wirt was becoming a sole target (not that he wanted Greg to be in danger, he would prefer it if neither of them was in danger).

Pacifica went over to the couch in the room, taking off her shoes and looking a lot more tired than she did previously. Wirt wondered if she was terrible with jet lag. “When do you want to summon Bill?” she asked, spinning the wedding band she wore.

Dipper chewed his lower lip as he thought, his brows going back into the same furrow from earlier. They would need to make sure that they were in a good area, restrict Bill’s access to the world, and ensure that everyone who was doing the summoning was protected in some way. Summoning Bill was going to be difficult with a lot of protection but they couldn’t be too careful. Dipper also had to make sure that Bill didn’t try to bring anyone else along.

Mabel poked his nose. “You’re getting lost in your brain, Dip-dop.” She whistled a little bit.

“You were doing the mumbling thing.” Pacifica raised an eyebrow at Dipper.

Wirt was sort of just… standing there. He seemed to be out of place with the other three in the room. He stood apart from them, a little bit away.

Dipper subconsciously moved closer to him as he spoke. “It’s better to summon Bill sooner rather than later. Do you want Greg to be there? If you do, we can do this over the weekend.” Dipper scanned Wirt’s face, trying to gauge how he felt through his expressions.

Wirt tapped his fingers on his cheek as he thought, his other hand screwing itself into his sweater. “I’ll ask him.” Greg was old enough to make his own decisions. Even if Wirt didn’t want him there, Greg was going to be eighteen next year and would probably be upset if he wasn’t involved with the process.

Mabel gave him a wide grin. “Just let us know! We’ll start prepping. Dipper!” She turned to her brother, her hands on her hips as she looked at him.

“Mabel?” he raised a brow at him.

“Pacifica and I will go gather get things to protect the boys.” She gestured at Wirt, despite him being the only “boy” that was there. “You can go and grab whatever we need for the summoning!” She patted him on the shoulder roughly.

“Do you want to tag along?” Dipper looked at Wirt, giving him a small smile.

In all honesty, Wirt didn’t really want to go back to his apartment. It was beginning to feel unsettling there. “Ah, yeah, sure,” he agreed. Dipper brought him some sense of relief since he actually knew what was going on.

Dipper gave a wider smile. “Let’s go then.” He patted his pockets to ensure he had everything. “Meet you two back here?” He looked at Mabel and Pacifica.

“Oh! How are you two getting around?” Wirt asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry about it,” Pacifica waved Wirt off. He opened his mouth to say more but Pacifica gave him a look.

Wirt decided that it was better for him not to question it.

“Are we meeting back here, or…?” Dipper repeated his question from earlier.

“Can we actually meet up at Wirt’s place? I wanna check it out.” Mabel directed her question at Wirt. Wirt raised his eyebrows.

It made sense, he guessed, that Mabel would need to look at his place too. Dipper had only been there a few times. Mabel must have taken his silence for hesitation, however. “It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Mabel spoke up again. “I just figured it would be worth it, there could be something there to check out. And we can make sure to put some protections in your apartment, too.” Mabel gave him a sweet smile.

“Yeah, of course, you can go over there.” Wirt lifted his hands up, waving them slightly to reassure Mabel. “I wasn’t going to say no.” He gave her a slight smile.

“Oh, good!” Mabel grabbed his hands, a brighter grin on her face now.

“What’s your address?” Pacifica asked him, all ready to type it up.

Wirt told her his address and she saved it. “We’ll meet you guys around five? At the latest?” Pacifica asked him and Dipper.

“Sounds good.” Dipper set a timer on his watch (Wirt was surprised that someone actually used a watch nowadays, rather than just their phone). “We’ll see you then.” Dipper waved at his sister and Pacifica, leaving the room. Wirt followed after him, also giving a small wave.

The two of them found their way back to Wirt’s car, Dipper automatically sliding into the passenger side while Wirt sat in the driver spot. “Where are we going?” Wirt asked him, looking over Dipper as he started up his car. He turned up the heat, the fall weather was steadily getting colder.

Dipper brought out his phone, he had a few connections in Massachusetts, enough to get what they needed. “I know a few witches in near Salem that can help us out,” Dipper told Wirt.

Wirt looked at him, blinking in surprise. “You actually know the witches there?”

“Well, really only one. I helped him out once.” Dipper waved his hands as he spoke. Wirt was concerned his phone was going to slip out of his hand and fall somewhere in the car.

Wirt pressed his lips together, staring out into the parking lot. “Do you think that there could be some sort of... hex or something on me?”

A frown came onto Dipper’s face, his expression becoming solemn and steely. “No,” Dipper answered. “Your issue doesn't seem like a hex, there's no reason for someone to hex you. not unless you stepped on someone's toes and never apologized for it.”

That made Wirt laugh lightly, Dipper giving him a fond smile. The moment was broken by Dipper's phone buzzing.

He looked at the messages. “We’re going here,” Dipper pulled up an address. He placed his phone so that Wirt could see the map. Wirt looked over at the directions.

“I’ve been there before.” He started to drive.

“Really?”

Wirt nodded. “I had cousins from New York in town. And you know, like every tourist group we automatically went to Salem. One of my cousins is really into the occult and that kind of stuff, I think he spent like 30 minutes in there just looking at every book. Then he couldn’t decide on anything so he didn’t buy anything.”

“30 minutes? That’s weak. I’ve spent up to two hours in a store and still haven’t bought anything.”

“You must be awful to shop with.” Wirt shook his head.

“Oh, I am. I have no idea what’s going on and I don’t know what I want to buy,” Dipper informed him.

“I don’t think you’ll be _that_ bad.” Wirt raised an eyebrow. Dipper liked the little smile that was pulling at the corner of his lips, the little flicker like glances that he would give Dipper.

“No, trust me, I’m awful. I might as well be a poorly dressed mannequin in a store.” Dipper grinned.

  
Wirt laughed. “I once took off the hand of a mannequin. I had to scramble to get it back on and I put it back on backward.”

“Why did you take the handoff?” Dipper raised an eyebrow.

“I was bored!” Wirt answered, “Sara was shopping and I was bored so I began to play with it and it just…. popped right off.”

“Did Sara notice?”

“She turned around and saw me holding it and just walked away,” Wirt laughed for a second time.

Dipper had to laugh a bit, too. “Pacifica once did that to me. We were at her family’s banquet or some other rich people event. She heard me asking about _one ghost_ , sighed, and just walked away.”

“In her defense, I think most people are put off by being asked about ghosts.” Wirt knew he was and he said this, giving Dipper a humoring smile.

“Her family’s original mansion was haunted by a vengeful lumberjack ghost! I had to make sure we weren’t going to have a repeat. I didn’t want to be turned into a wooden statue again,” Dipper grumbled.

Wirt was going to ask about the “again” in that statement but they quickly arrived at their destination. He managed to find parking, following Dipper into the store. Despite Dipper being shorter than him, he walked a lot faster like he always had somewhere to go. Wirt wasn’t a slow walker but Dipper always seemed to be a step ahead of him at all times.

The store that they had arrived at was called “Witch Way You’ll Go?” which, Wirt thought to himself, wasn’t the most clever of names. Dipper entered the store, a small bell chiming to alert the owner of their entrance.

There was a teenager who was stocking the shelves, his bright red hair stood out against the darker color scheme of the shop. He turned and looked at them. “Hey, welcome! Can I help you find anything?”

“We’re here to see Jean,” Dipper told the worker. “He should be expecting us. My name is Dipper.” He smiled at the teen, who nodded.

“Wait right here, I’ll go grab him.” The employee (whose name tag Wirt just noticed read “Parker”) disappeared into the back.

Wirt recognized the store. It had changed since the last time he had been in there. It was nicely lit, it wasn’t super bright and it smelled faintly of incense and spices. He examined some photos on the wall. Some were well-aged pictures taken of old town Salem. When he looked at the books he saw that they were lined with history books, but also books of shadows, demons, more. He caught a title by Ed and Lorraine Warren.

Dipper had been examining tarot cards when Jean stepped out. “Dipper!” He turned from the collection to look at the store owner. Jean was about the same height as Wirt, with curly hair stuffed under a wide-brimmed, black hat. All his other clothing was black, and he had a crystal hanging from his earring.

“I haven’t seen you in forever! How can I help you?” Jean gave Dipper a wide smile, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’re going to do a summoning.” Dipper gestured over to Wirt. “That’s Wirt. I’m helping him out. Mabel and Pacifica are here, too.”

Jean’s gaze turned to him. Wirt felt that he was being scrutinized from the long stare Jean gave him. He seemed to be considering something. “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?” Jean asked, offering his hand for Wirt to shake.

Wirt shook his hand. “I’ve been in here once, with my family.”

Jean nodded his head, understanding. His grip lasted on Wirt’s hand for a little bit too long. With Jean this close, Wirt noticed that his eyes were more yellow than amber, a symbol was in them but it was faint, hardly noticeable. "You need to be careful. Even without what you went through, you were definitely someone that’s sensitive to the world. Whatever experience you had just amplified it, and you’re in danger. Be open to what you see, but stay wary.” Jean let go of his hand. Wirt dropped it, feeling a bit bewildered.

Dipper was looking at them, Jean had spoken lowly enough that he couldn’t hear. “Uh,” Dipper spoke up. “Everything alright over there?”

Jean turned to him. “Everything’s fine.” Jean brushed off Dipper’s concerns while Wirt stood there wondering what had just happened. “What type of summoning are you doing?” Jean asked, walking towards the back of the store. Dipper glanced at Wirt, going over and tugging him along by his wrist. He followed Jean to the back.

Wirt trailed after Dipper, staring at him for a moment, then Jean. The store was bigger than expected. Jean had led them to a back room that was lined with plants, books, and diagrams. On a desk there were rocks, what Wirt had to assume were potions, open books, and spilled ink. “Sorry for the mess,” Jean apologized.

“It’s fine. We need to summon a dream demon,” Dipper told Jean. He hadn’t let go of Wirt’s wrist, his hand slipping down a bit. Wirt didn’t pull away from him, even though they were both holding hands in the loosest meaning of the phrase.

“That’s dangerous,” he frowned. “Are you—”

  
“We’re taking the proper precautions, don’t worry. We know who we want, too. He’s already been popping up where he shouldn’t.” Dipper’s gaze flitted over to Wirt, who looked away from him. “I just need to talk to him.”

“Will you be messing with the veil at all?”

“Not this time around.” Dipper shook his head. Jean nodded, turning away from him and flitting about the back room. Wirt watched with interest as he pulled out candles and some sort of dust. “We don’t need a whole lot, we already have the passage and what we need to draw his symbol. We just need double protection to make sure he doesn’t get out.”

Jean nodded in understanding. “I’m trusting you not to fuck this up.” Jean handed him the supplies. “I still owe you one so think of this as me paying my debts.” He gave the two of them a lazy smile.

“Thanks.” Dipper finally let go of Wirt to accept the supplies. Wirt rubbed his wrist. Dipper’s hand had still been warm.

“Did you need anything else?” Jean asked.

“No, thanks, man.” Dipper shook his head. “I’ll try to stop by again sometime to catch up or something.” Dipper smiled.

“Of course! I can bring around Dick and maybe we can have a double date while you’re still in town?” Jean raised a brow.

“I-- um, what?” Wirt’s face turned extremely bright and red while he sputtered.

Dipper cleared his throat. “Thanks again,” he told Jean. “We can show ourselves out. Catch you later, dude.” Wirt turned before Dipper could, willing that his blush would calm down. The employee from before nodded at him while he left. Wirt slapped himself in the cheeks, trying to chill out.

“Alright.” Dipper stood next to him, looking down at his watch. The two of them walked towards the car. “That went faster than expected, do you want to head to your place?” Dipper looked at Wirt.

“Yeah, we should wait for Mabel and Pacifica there. I’ll call Greg too, to see if he wants to come.” Talking about their siblings instantly made his heart slow down. The two of them got back into the car, driving back to Wirt’s small apartment.

“So, how long have you known Jean for?” Wirt asked, tapping on the steering wheel.

“A while. He was the one who had the poltergeist problem. He’s a really strong witch, especially when it comes to things like necromancy. But when he was younger, he had some issues with keeping that under control. So a poltergeist flocked to him and ended up causing a lot of trouble. We had a mutual contact so he reached out to me for help. I didn’t really do much of it, honestly. It was mainly Mabel,” Dipper explained to him.

“What did she do?”

“She punched a ghost in the face,” Dipper stated casually.

Wirt turned to him so fast that the car almost swerved. “She did what!?”

“Yeah,” Dipper shrugged. “It was awesome.”

Wirt looked forward again, trying to imagine Mabel punching a ghost. “How… how is that even possible?”

“I think it’s a combination of her sheer will and her iron knuckles. They were a gift from our Grunkle Stan.” Again, Dipper said this all casually. Wirt wondered what kind of childhood the two of them had.

“That’s nice?”

Dipper laughed. “They’re very useful.”

“I can imagine.”

“You should have seen what he gave her for her wedding. Probably the best grappling hook that he could have schemed someone into getting him. It’s studded and everything.” Dipper had a small smile on his face now. It was fond, and soft. Wirt smiled at the mere expression alone.

“From what you’ve told me about your two Grunkles, they seem like a fun pair.” Wirt looked away from Dipper, back towards the road now that the light had turn green.

“I think both of them would have liked to have met you,” Dipper said it softly, his voice matching his expression.

Then he cleared his throat, looking out the window. “Are you sure you’re okay with us summoning Bill?”

To be honest, he didn’t want to summon Bill. He wanted to lay down and just let this whole thing pass him. It was too much for him. His chest felt tight, and he gripped the steering wheel even harder. “Yeah,” he answered, despite the alarm bells ringing in his head. His stomach felt sick.

“We have to,” Wirt said, his voice a little clipped. Dipper looked at him, studying his profile. Wirt’s jaw was clenched, and Dipper wasn’t much of a physical person but he wanted to reach over and give him a comforting pat on the knee. Or something like that (entwine their fingers together, stroke the back of Wirt’s hand).

Dipper nodded in solidarity. “Right,” was all he said in response. They arrived at the apartment, Dipper now following Wirt up the stairs.

Opening the front door to his own apartment made Wirt feel dread. He couldn’t place the reason why. The apartment was warm, a nice difference from the cold that was outside. “Home sweet home,” Wirt sighed, kicking off his shoes. Dipper did the same, placing the summoning items on the table.

He dug out a book from his bag. It was well used, a bit torn. “What’s that?” Wirt asked, watching as Dipper sat down, flipping through the book. It had a six-fingered hand on the front, the number 2 written in the middle. Wirt sat next to him.

“A journal that my Grunkle Ford made. He had three of them, it tracked the weirdness he saw in Gravity Falls. It’s really just a bunch of his research. He summoned Bill before and all of the instructions are written down here.” Dipper tapped on the page. Wirt leaned over his shoulder to look. In the middle of cursive writing was a drawing of Bill in the middle of a circle with symbols all around.

“Is that Latin?” Wirt read over some of the text.

“Yep.” Dipper looked over at him. Wirt was staring down at journal two with interest. He hesitated for a moment. “You should call Greg,” Dipper told him instead of doing something potentially stupid.

Wirt sat up. “Oh, right.” He stood up from the couch, going into the kitchen as he pulled his phone out and called his brother.

 _“Wirt!”_ Greg answered immediately, _“What’s up?”_

Pausing, he thought about how to phrase what he was about to say. “We’re going to summon Bill, the guy who’s been in my dreams. I was wondering if you wanted to be here. You don’t have to, of course. It’s going to be weird no doubt. And probably dangerous,” Wirt added as an afterthought.

 _“You’re summoning him?”_ Greg asked and Wirt made a noise of confirmation.

 _“I’ll come. I want to know what he has to say. Plus I want to see Dipper again! You’re hogging him!”_ Greg’s tone didn’t fail to be cheery.

“Dipper’s sister, Mabel, and her wife Pacifica are here too,” he informed Greg.

 _“That’s so cool! I’ll definitely come down. When are you guys going to do this?”_ Greg asked.

“This weekend,” Wirt told him.

Dipper could hear Wirt talking from where he was sitting. There was a knock on the door and he spared a glance towards the kitchen. Wirt seemed busy with talking to Greg, pacing around as he did. He got up from the couch and looked through the peephole, seeing Mabel and Pacifica.

He opened the door. “Hey,” he greeted Mabel, who high-fived him.

“Hey!” She let herself in, Pacifica following. Both of them were looking around the apartment. “It’s so cute!” Mabel gushed, rushing over to the plants on the window sill. “These are dying though,” she frowned.

“Does his upstairs neighbor have a leaking problem?” Pacifica looked up at the brown stain that was on the ceiling.

“I don’t know.” Dipper looked up too, furrowing his brows at it. He hadn’t noticed that before. Wirt’s conversation in the kitchen ended and he came out, looking at the three adults in his room.

“Greg said that he’ll come,” Wirt told them.

Mabel squealed. “Yes! Greg!” She radiated excitement, despite never meeting him before.

“You should check out what’s going on upstairs.” Pacifica pointed at the stain.

Wirt rubbed the back of his neck, feeling and looking sheepish. “I know. I haven’t had the time.” He looked at her. She hummed before going over and taking a bag from Mabel.

“Well, we got what we needed for protection.” Pacifica handed them to DIpper, who looked through it.

“I also started to check out local tattoo shops! Since you seemed interested in those too, Wirt.” Mabel smiled at him. “For like, some added padding of protection, do you have any personal items that might be useful?”

Only one thing came into thought. The necklace that Greg had made him and Wirt reached up and touched where it should fall on his chest if he were to be wearing it. “I do, at least I think so, anyway,” Wirt replied.

Mabel clapped her hands. “Great! Pacifica can definitely make sure that works as a charm for you or Greg then.” She looked over at Pacifica, who nodded.

“I’ll go grab it.” Wirt went to his room, grabbing the necklace where he had left it on the dresser. When he came back the three of them were talking quietly to each other. “I have it,” Wirt interrupted the small triangle of conversation.

“Can I see?” Pacifica looked over at him, stretching out her hand. Wirt handed the necklace over to her. She examined it, looking at him. “This can definitely work, as long as it has importance to you.” She smiled at him.

Wirt nodded his head, smiling back. “Well, that definitely does.”

“Alright, we have everything we need. When is Greg going to come?” Dipper asked.

“He said around Friday,” Wirt told Dipper.

“Good, we can probably summon him Saturday then,” Dipper told the rest of them.

“Sounds good.” Mabel placed her hands on her hips. “Right now, we should eat something. Do you cook?” Mabel asked Wirt.

“Yes?” Wirt could cook, and he did. When he felt like eating or having the energy to eat. “I don’t know what’s in my cabinets right now though.” Wirt couldn’t really remember the last time he had eaten either.

Despite the vague answer, Mabel smiled anyway. “We can definitely make something. Cook with me!” Mabel looped their arms together, dragging Wirt into the kitchen. It had been a while since he had cooked for himself. A while since he had cooked with someone else, too.

Mabel instantly began to search his cabinets, humming to herself as she brought down things Wirt forgot he had. He watched her as he washed his hands.

“Can I ask you something?” Mabel turned to him, bringing down some meat from the freezer. She set it down, washing her hands. “Oh, this is a cute towel!” She lifted up the small hand towel with a bluebird embroidered on the bottom.

“Sure? Go ahead.” Those five words always gave Wirt a large ball of anxiety. “And thanks.”

“How did you get out of the Unknown? Dipper just told me the bare minimum of what happened there.” Mabel put out some rice, with Wirt grabbing a pot and measuring out the right amount of water and rice.

“How much did he tell you?” Wirt wanted to know what he didn’t have to go over.

“Just the bits of the Beast, how time moves differently, really just the bare bones. You can probably tell me more but… I just want to know how you got out. If it’s a place in between death, or where you go when you die I can’t imagine it was easy for you guys.” Mabel had managed to find vegetables that Wirt definitely forgot he had. They were still good, and she began to clean them before chopping.

“I had to name our frog, Jason Funderburker. I stood up to the Beast, who wanted to take Greg’s soul and have me carry the lantern. Because of how insistent he was about the lantern I figured that his soul was in there, which in turn helped the woodsman fight the Beast off. But really, it was naming the frog. I didn’t realize that it was him who got us out for a while,” Wirt paused, glancing over at Mabel who had stopped her cutting to listen. “Greg was… he was close to death. Properly dying. But telling him that we needed to get home, that _we_ needed to get Jason Funderburker home _together_ helped me get out of there.”

“You saved the both of you, then,” Mabel’s voice was soft, reminding him of Dipper’s in the car.

“I didn’t really… I just woke up.” Wirt didn’t consider himself a hero in that situation. It had been his fault that they ended up like that in the first place.

Mabel placed her hand gently on his arm. “You saved him, and you saved yourself. I don’t know the full story, but you were a hero.” She squeezed him gently.

Wirt looked down at the boiling pot of water and rice, not sure how to respond to praise. He turned down the heat so it didn’t spill over. “Thanks,” was all he said in response.

He didn’t look at her, but he felt that Mabel was smiling. Her hand slipped from him and she went back to chopping.

The conversation picked up eventually, mainly discussion of what they were preparing. Eventually, Pacifica found her way into the kitchen, Mabel sneaking her kisses now and then. Dipper joined them too. It was the most people Wirt had had in his kitchen since his family had last been over.

It felt nice.

The three investigators left Wirt’s apartment around 10:00 pm. Mabel had given Wirt a tight enough hug that he swore she was going to pick him up and swing him around. He didn’t hug Pacifica or Dipper goodbye. Dipper was the last to leave his apartment, running a hand through his hair.

Wirt was leaning against the doorway, looking at Dipper. For a moment his hand stayed bunched up in his hair before he let it drop. “I’ll see you later, then?”

“Of course,” Wirt smiled at him.

Dipper smiled back, “Text me if you need anything.” Wirt nodded his head, watching Dipper leave before closing his front door. The apartment felt a bit empty without the other three there, even if had only been a short few hours.

He didn’t feel tired, so Wirt spent that night trying to work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry i died for a bit there, i had the opportunity to go savannah college of art and design for five weeks and I really lived the college student experience so i had no time but I'm back!  
> Hit me up at trans-riot.tumblr.com im always open for discussions and questions!


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been considering illustrating this story so let me know what parts you want to seen drawn!

Something woke him up. A very quiet, subtle noise that seemed to be growing louder and louder. Chattering. It was growing louder and seemed to be coming from somewhere above him.

Wirt didn't want to open his eyes. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, he was beginning to sweat, it was hard to breathe. An alarm was blaring in his head. The sound was coming from above his head. Instincts that had been buried from years of evolution were kicking in, his fight or flight was beginning to take action even if he wanted to hide.

Danger. Danger. All of the signs were telling him that something was deeply wrong. That he was going to be harmed if he so much as breathed wrong.

Something dripped on his forehead. He squeezed his eyes tighter. Pulled his blankets closer with the childish belief that they would protect him for whatever was in his room. He wanted to know what was there but he wanted to hide away from it. Still, his impulses were bothering him. It was hard to fight against the urge and eventually the urge to open his eyes and scope out the enemy took over him. Wirt peeked an eye open.

A naked, pale, thin white man was on top of the ceiling. The man was looking at him. His fingers had long talons and his teeth were chattering, his mouth pulled in a stretched, wide grin that spread across his face. It was like someone had put two hooks in his mouth and had pulled the edges far away from each other. 

His head was upside down. When he caught Wirt’s eye he began to laugh, sounding like he was gasping for air.

Wirt gasped, turning onto his side burrowing his head underneath the sheets. They quickly became uncomfortably warm with the combination of his body heat and his breaths warmth. The chattering was incredibly loud. Wirt could hear him scuttling above him.

He closed his eyes and tried to will the upside down man away. The upside down man wasn't real. He didn't exist— this was just a nightmare. 

Wirt could hear an old therapist, telling to breathe and how to calm down. The chattering stopped. He let out a sigh of relief, although still very on guard. He peeked out from the covers slowly, ever so slightly turning onto his back. 

It happened quickly. The upside down man landed on Wirt’s chest, holding him down, fingers digging into his skin. His long, long tongue came out of his mouth. It was slimy and wrapped itself around his neck. Wirt choked, struggling to move his hands but finding that he couldn't move at all.

The upside down man’s teeth began to chatter again. His breath was hot and moist. His tongue loosened around his neck, and he leaned in close to Wirt’s ear. Wirt feared that he was going to bite it off.

“She needs you. The trees are awake,” his voice was raspy, cold. Wirt shook underneath him, trying to push him off. He managed to get an arm and a leg out but the tongue wrapped around him again. Still, Wirt fought.

He scratched at the wet muscle around his neck. The slimy appendage didn’t remove itself, twitching, pulsing around his neck. He scrambled towards freedom. He grabbed the nearest pen and stabbed it into the tongue. The tongue released him and he stumbled, trying to regain his stabilization. Wirt gasped a breath and ran for his phone, grabbing them off the nearest shelf. The tongue wrapped around his ankle now and he fell straight onto his face. His nose burned but he got back up again, ignoring the pain in his palms when he scrambled to get up.

The living room suddenly felt strange and new. Wirt ran into the coffee table, not even feeling the pain from it in his panic. He slammed his hand down on the table, searching until he was able to find his keys. He grabbed them quickly and stood back up, rushing to the front of his door. The chattering was following him and Wirt ran out the door, slamming it behind him. He didn’t bother to make look behind him as he made his escape.

He ran down the stairs, the cold night air hitting him brutally in the face as he ran outside to his car. The concrete was even colder than the air. His front toes began to ache from where he had banged them against the table.

Wirt took a moment as soon as his door was closed and locked. The car was warming up, the radio turning on [automatically](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kEwKVhSZAhE). Wirt slammed his hand against it, turning it off. Biting his lower lip, Wirt tried to control himself. Force himself into some idea of calm. The car was even colder than the outside, the chill of the leather seats kept him alert and focused. They brought him back down.

The sudden paranoia that the upside down man was going to catch up hit him, and he high tailed out of his parking lot. His car skidded as he drove far away from his apartment to where he knew would be safe. He  _ hoped _ it was safe. At the very least, someone else would be there. 

Wirt turned into the parking lot of Sara’s rented townhome. He turned his car off, hardly remembering to before his feet hit the gravel and he was running up her steps. Then Wirt slammed against the door with his fists. 

“Sara! Sara, please, Sara!” He yelled, his voice cracking. He looked over his shoulder and began to pound with more urgency. Any moment the pale man would be behind him. He knocked with even more urgency, “Sara! Open up!”

The light came on inside and the door swung open. “Wirt?” Sara blinked at him, looking panicked.

“Sara — " he stepped towards her.

“Oh my god, Wirt,” she pulled him inside and locked the door. Her hands flew to his face. “What happened to you? Are you okay?” She looked over him in worry.

“Chasing me. It's chasing me, Sara.” He grabbed her shoulders, panicking. 

“Calm down. Wirt, calm down. Deep breaths, okay?” Sara’s voice was level and calm, she looked at Wirt with wide sympathetic eyes. “Nothing can get you here, I promise,” she said it to him with such confidence he had to believe in her. 

Sara was pushing him against the couch now. “Sit tight, I'll get something to clean you up,” Sara began to leave the room but Wirt whined out of protest.

The pain was coming back now, his toes ached, it was hard to breathe. The adrenaline crash was hitting him. “Please don’t leave me, I don't want to be by myself,” Wirt practically begged, holding onto her arms.

“I'll just be in the next room over,” she attempted to reassure him, removing his hand gently. She gave it a small squeeze. “Besides, Eevie is there to protect you,” something brushed against him and Wirt jumped.

Looking down he just saw Sara’s bratty calico cat. She jumped on his lap and made herself at home, purring loudly. Eevie made herself at home, Wirt feeling a little comforted by her presence.

Sara came back, wrapping a blanket around him. He hadn't noticed how much he was shivering until then. “I told you she loves you,” she smiled and began to get to work on his nose. “We might need to go to the hospital, your toes and your nose both look swollen. What did this to you? You said you were being chased?” She scanned his face, concerned.

“You need to call Dipper,” he told her, wincing as she wiped away the blood from his face. 

“But —” Sara looked at him. Wirt could tell that Sara was going to protest but he just stared at her. Sara moved away from his face. He held her eyes steadfast. 

“Please, Sara. Trust me,” he pleaded with her, gripping the ends of the blanket he had wrapped around him. 

“Okay, I'll call him then,” Sara agreed. She grabbed her phone and called Dipper.

Dipper’s phone was on the last ring when he answered. He didn't rest easy but once he was finally at the break, he slept like the dead.

“Hello?”

“ _ Dipper. It's me, Sara. Uh, Wirt just showed up banging on my door. He's a bloody mess, really jumpy. Said something was following him,”  _ Sara informed him.

Dipper was up instantly. pulling on his clothes quickly. He put on his shoes, halfway to Mabel and Pacifica’s room. “What’s your address?” Dipper asked Sara, knocking on Mabel and Pacifica’s door. His glasses kept threatening to fall from his nose, slipping down his face. Dipper pushed them up high as he waited, running his hand through his hair.

Sara told him where she lived, “We’ll get there as soon as possible.” He said to Sara before hanging up. He looked over Pacifica, “Wirt’s hurt. He’s at his friends.”

“I'll call a car,” Mabel pulled on a sweater behind Pacifica. “Paz, honey bear, can you grab everything?”

“Already on it,” Pacifica grabbed a bag full of things that could protect and to observe with. The three of them were soon en route to Sara’s. Dipper texted her of their status, bouncing his leg impatiently in the passenger side.

“What’s the situation?” Mabel asked, leaning over from the back seat to look at Dipper. The driver didn’t seem to care.

“She didn’t give me a lot of details, his friend, her name is Sara. Just that he was hurt and that something had been following him,” Dipper chewed his lower lip, feeling guilty. He should’ve been able to prevent this. Wirt hadn’t been outright attacked before so foolishly he hadn’t even considered taking the proper measures. 

Mabel made a small ‘hmm’ing noise before flopping back in her seat. “Do you think it was Bill? He could be toying with us, or he’s getting impatient.”

“This isn’t his style,” Dipper glanced out the car window.

“Did Sara send you any pictures?” Pacifica piped up. “Of his injuries. Could be something just drawn to him and trying to feed off of that.”

“I don’t have any more details than her address and that Wirt’s there,” Dipper told her quickly.

“Don’t get snappy with me. You’re so grumpy when you’re tired,” he could practically hear Pacifica rolling her eyes.

“Guys,” Mabel stepped in, “No need for grumps! Can’t risk freaking out Wirt more.” 

Dipper just crossed his arms and slumped in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead as they drove. Mabel and Pacifica talked quietly in the back for a while before going silent. The ride felt longer than it was but eventually they got there, Pacifica paying the driver. 

Dipper stared up at Sara’s house. Wirt’s car was parked carelessly in the driveway, and almost all of the lights were on inside the house. Dipper didn’t waste any time knocking on the door.

Sara answered it quickly, swinging the door open. “You got here fast,” she moved aside to let all three of them in. Dipper didn’t pay her much mind, heading towards Wirt who was on the couch almost instantly. Sara looked a bit frazzled, looking at Mabel and Pacifica. “Um — “

“Hi! I’m Mabel,” Mabel grinned at her.

“Pacifica,” she nodded.

“I’m Sara,” the introductions were brief. She looked back over to where Dipper and Wirt were.

Wirt was still shaking. Even with a cat in his lap, lights on, and a blanket around his shoulders he was still trembling like a leaf. “It-it was on my  _ ceiling _ ,” Wirt looked at Dipper, his eyes still wide. Dipper grabbed his face gently, scanning it for any other injuries than his nose. “It drooled on me — the thing, man, whatever it was. It woke me up,” Wirt’s mouth was moving on its own now. “He was on my ceiling. His nails were in my ceiling and he was staring at me. His teeth were so loud and his head was upside down and he was  _ naked _ and — “ 

“Breathe,” Dipper had grabbed his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Breathe, Wirt.”

Wirt took a deep breath, looking at Dipper. He grabbed his hand back, aware that he was probably squeezing it too tightly. 

“It  _ spoke _ to me, Dipper,” Wirt whispered it as if he didn't believe it. 

“What did it say?” Mabel asked him this time, Wirt jumped, not having realized she was behind him. “Sorry,” she placed her hands on her shoulders. 

Wirt tried to remember. He furrowed his brows, frowning before looking at Mabel. “Something about the trees being awake. That someone needed me. It mentioned someone. Not by name, he just said 'she',” he looked back to Dipper who's fingers gently brushed against his throat.

“You have marks around your neck,” Dipper gently pushed Wirt so his head was turned. “The back of your neck too,” he gently pressed against the bruise there and Wirt shivered.

“It choked me with its tongue,” his voice came out small. 

“Sorry,” Dipper stopped touching his neck. “It mentioned a she?” Wirt nodded and Dipper wondered if Bill would know anything.

“And trees,” Pacifica noted, “Specifically, them being awake.”

“Is it familiar to you?” Sara sat next to Wirt on the couch and he leaned against her.

Dipper pressed his lips together, “No. But we’ll find something. Are you hurt anywhere else?” There were several bruises that Dipper could see just on Wirt’s arms. He didn't touch those.

“His nose was broken, I reset it but still needs to be looked at. Toes on his left foot are broken too— "

“I ran into the coffee table,” Wirt explained. “Fell on my face somehow,” most of it was a blur.

“And his shoulders. Whatever was there dug its claws in him pretty good,” Sara looked tired and worried. 

“He fell on me from the ceiling. The upside down man. He tried to hold me down,” Wirt held Dipper’s hand a little bit tighter. “I ran here, first thing.”

“Tell him he needs to go to the hospital. He's refusing to go to the hospital,” Wirt glared at Sara who ignored him and looked at Dipper.

“You should. For your toes at least. They won't be able to do a lot but if you need a splint,” Dipper began to slip his hand away from Wirt. “I can check out your apartment. See if there's anything still there or anything left behind.”

“No.” Wirt grabbed his arm as soon as Dipper let him go. “If it's still there — We don't even know what it  _ is _ . What if it followed me? Or what if it tries to get to you?” A million thoughts were racing through his thoughts.

“I've dealt with worse things,” Dipper attempted to assure him.

“So have I,” Wirt didn't let go.

There was a pregnant pause. “I'll go,” Mabel interrupted, “You need to research what's going on. Besides, I'm the brawn,” his twin grinned, “If it comes at me I'll just punch it.”

Wirt turned to her, mortified. “Mabel, this isn't a punching situation.”

“I have iron knuckles, I'll be fine. Where are your keys?” Mabel outstretched her hand.

“I can’t--"

“Mabel will be fine. Better than fine, she once beat up a unicorn,” Dipper reassured Wirt.

“What?” He looked at Dipper, even more confused.

“Just trust me!” Mabel clapped him on the back. “Now, keys?”

Wirt grew silent for a moment. He tried to remember where he had put them, patting his pockets. “I left them in the car,” he confessed.

“Can I borrow your car too?” Mabel requested, looking at him with a big smile and wide eyes 

“Okay,” he agreed sort of automatically.

“Thanks!” Mabel patted the top of Wirt’s head. “Be back in a jiffy!”

“Be careful,” Pacifica called after her wife as she left the house. She then looked at Dipper, “I'll go with them to the hospital,” she pointed at Sara and Wirt, “Just in case of anything.”

Dipper nodded, “Sounds good. I'll see what I can find. Is it okay if I camp out here?” Dipper asked Sara.

She nodded, “That's fine.” She stood from the couch, “Come on,” she offered Wirt her hand, helping him stand. His knees felt weak and his entire body was beginning to hurt. Wirt tossed Dipper a look as he was carted out of the house.

When he was the only one left, Dipper dug out some books and his laptop out of the bag before sitting down and cracking into it.

Mabel discovered that Wirt had left his front door unlocked. The building was still pretty quiet since it had only just reached 4 am. As soon as she stepped inside, her nose was assaulted by the smell of sulfur mixed in with something more sweet and flowery. Always a good sign! Mabel frowned at what they might be dealing with.

She continued further in, leaving the door open behind her to try and get rid of the smell. She opened up the living room window. All of Wirt’s plants had shriveled and died, completely black as opposed to the slightly dying state they had been the last time she was there. Mabel began to snap photos, going about the apartment carefully. She took a photo if the stain on the ceiling as well. 

The apartment didn't feel empty. Mabel was acutely aware of the fact that she was being watched. There were some drops of blood on the floor that were still drying and she could assume it was Wirt’s blood (she took pictures of those too). She looked through his drawers and cabinets, not caring for privacy since if there was some sort of cursed object in here, she needed to find it.

Mabel packed Wirt a bag of clothes while she dug through his items. She checked under his bed, shining a flashlight. It was dusty underneath but she didn't find anything interesting other than the journals of poetry that she resisted reading. Mabel flipped his bed. There was a bunch of dirt on the underside, fresh soil that seemed to be wet like it came from a place near water. She looked up, seeing claw marks from where the upside down man must have held himself up. 

The apartment wasn't that big but she searched for clues anywhere she could. There was something burned into the rug in his bathroom. Mabel crouched, touching it with her fingers. It was a circle, a triangle inside that was pointed downwards. There was a smaller circle under it, touching the edge of the biggest circle, there were two on the edge as well where the other points of the triangle were. Inside each small circle were different symbols. Mabel snapped a photo of that too, they were going to have to run that through some systems. It wasn't familiar to her. 

Maybe Jean would have some idea.

Mabel hummed to herself, slinging the bag she collected for Wirt over her shoulder. She headed into the kitchen but almost immediately stepped out. It smelled of rotten meat and produce and she didn't want to go in there. But she guessed that she had to.

She pulled her sweater over her nose and mouth, entering the kitchen. She checked those cabinets and shelves, opening the fridge and freezer doors. There wasn't anything but the terrible stench so she quickly left. Mabel closed the apartment behind her, texting Dipper that she had found a few clues but not a whole lot. She sent the pictures over to him before heading back to Sara’s house.

The sun was beginning to rise by the time she got back. Dipper let her back into the house and Mabel was greeted loudly by the cat. “Hello, sweetie,” she bent down, stretching her hand out. The cat rubbed herself against the corner of the wall but then walked away. Mabel pouted, standing up and looking at her brother who had overtaken the couch and coffee table. 

“Anything about that symbol?” Mabel plopped down next to him.

“I don’t recognize it but I sent it to Jean. Hopefully, he knows something but I'm going to keep looking anyway,” Dipper mumbled around the pen that was in his mouth. 

“Considering the heavy smell of sulfur and all of the dead things in there — I have to go back and clean out that fridge — I say that whatever was there last night was definitely a demonic presence,” she snuggled down into the couch as she stared at words on a page. She wasn't really reading them.

“Do you think it's trying to kill him?” Mabel asked, glancing at Dipper. 

“He said that the thing that attacked mentioned something about him being needed,” Dipper replied, not answering the question.

“That doesn't mean he needs to be alive.”

“Mabel — “

“Dipper. I'm not saying we can't do anything for him. We just need to be aware that there's a chance he can die here,” Mabel cut him off.

Dipper let out a deep sigh, his shoulders sagging. He leaned his head back, “I know that. I'm trying to prevent that.”

“I know you are,” she didn't like this situation. Everything kept pointing to something that made her sick. But they at least had to face the reality and for once, Dipper didn't seem to be doing that. Mabel placed her hand over her brothers, giving it a small squeeze before just letting it rest atop.

“We need to contact Bill,” Dipper sat up straight again.

The front door opened again and both twins turned to look. Wirt was leaning nearly his entire body weight against Sara, who was trying to take off her jacket. Mabel brightened up.

“Hey! How was it?” She asked Wirt.

“He needed like, a full foot splint. He's also incredibly high right now. They gave him the good stuff,” Sara wrapped an arm around Wirt’s waist. “Come on, time for bed,” she told him quietly. Wirt mumbled something incoherent, just letting himself to be led upstairs.

“Do you need help?” Dipper asked, beginning to rise when Sara walked past.

“Nah. I've benched more than he weighs!” Sara dismissed him, a smile in her tone. 

“The bill wasn't that bad,” Pacifica toed off her shoes and joined the siblings on the couch. “Did you guys find anything?” 

Mabel showed Pacifica the pictures that she took. Dipper just showed the little bit of research he had managed to find. “We’re going to speed up summoning Bill. He clearly knows a lot more than we can find right now,” which frustrated Dipper to no end. He didn't want to be on the short stick when it came to Bill.

“I gave Wirt the charm we made for protection, hopefully, that helps a bit before we summon Bill,” Pacifica leaned against Mabel, snuggling into her. She was probably the least morning person out of all of them. 

“Who are we summoning?” Sara reappeared down the stairs.

“Is Wirt okay?” Dipper asked.

“He’s out like a light, trust me, when he sleeps he  _ sleeps. _ Now, who are we summoning?” Sara sat down on the love seat next to the couch. 

“Bill Cipher. He's an old enemy that seems to be mixed into all of this,” Mabel explained before Dipper could.

“I— we don't think he's the cause behind it but he definitely knows something,” Dipper told her when Sara’s face began to show signs of worry and panic. “He’s a dream demon or at least some sort of entity. Still not entirely sure what he is. Thing is that he can't reach any of us, but he can reach Wirt,” Dipper left out that Wirt was probably going to get involved even without Bill. He had a target over his head and Bill just noticed it.

“So you're going to summon him?”

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Dipper scratched his arm where the tattoos were, “Believe me, if I could I would never even think about that triangle.”

“He’s a triangle?” Sara asked, her voice bordering on a laugh.

“With one eye, a bowtie, and a tiny top hat!” Mabel chimed in.

“He can also turn your face upside down,” Pacifica shuddered at the memory.

“He once trapped me in a fake world,” Mabel said it almost too casually.

“He brought the Weirdmaggedon on Gravity Falls and imprisoned citizens by turning them into stone and putting them in his chair,” Dipper told Sara who's face had morphed from amusement to horror.

“Oh,” was all she said, and she looked like she was trying to figure out something else to say. “Are you guys tired?” She just decided to change the topic completely. 

“Wirt’s asleep in my room but there's three other rooms you can stay in, I rent this place from my aunt so there's a lot more space than I need,” Sara rubbed the back of her neck. “You guys were woken up at 3 am too, so I figured you need some rest.”

“Sleeping sounds like a great idea right now,” Pacifica yawned. 

“Yeah. I think we should all sleep some more. Especially if one of us plans on summoning something,” Mabel tossed a pointed look. “You're not going to get much done with how tired you are,” at this point Mabel had begun to measure and time Dipper’s sleep. If she didn't then she knew that Dipper would stay up for three straight days again. Right now they couldn't afford for any of them to be off their game. 

“Someone needs to watch over Wirt if he has any trouble,” Dipper began to resist.

“My bed can also fit two people,” Sara stated plainly.

Dipper blushed like he was still twelve, “How's the floor in there? I want to at least be in the same room in case anything happens.”

Sara raised her brow at him, “It’s a floor but if you really want to sleep there I can set it up for you.” 

“That sounds good, thanks,” Dipper agreed after a few moments of hesitation. 

“Can we just sleep in any room?” Pacifica asked Sara.

“Yeah. You should be good to go,” she nodded. 

“Thank you,” Mabel smiled at Sara. “Dipper, make sure to give that bag to Wirt,” she pointed to the small, blue bag that was resting against the edge of the couch. The two headed upstairs and Dipper stayed downstairs, organizing the mess that he had already began to make. 

“Thanks for letting us stay,” Dipper told Sara.

“Anything for Wirt,” she replied with a small shrug. “We go way back.”

“He mentioned before that you two dated in high school, or tried to,” Dipper grabbed the bag and followed Sara up the stairs.

“We dated for…. Three months? After the incident in the Unknown. I was actually his first kiss but that was weird. We work really good as friends but we’re an incredibly awkward couple. We’ve known each other since middle school though,” Sara grabbed a few bedsheets from the closet. They stood outside the room, not entering yet so they could talk freely.

“Really?”

“Yeah. He was kinda a weird emo hipster in middle school? One of those phases, it didn't last long thankfully. Hipster has stuck with him though, but he's just genuinely into old stuff and is dumb with technology. But he was my first band friend in middle school, we were chill and then stuff changed in high school. Everything turned out fine, in the end, awkward dating aside. At this point I think we'll both do anything to help each other,” Sara’s voice became a bit distant, so did her smile.

“Well! Come on, you need to get some sleep,” Sara quietly opened the door. Not like it seemed it would have mattered. Wirt was sprawled out on the bed, his foot still elevated. His hair was sticking up and his face was relaxed. Wirt was snoring quietly.

“What did they give him?” Dipper asked, placing the bag near the bed.

“Vicodin. Usually, they just let someone take ibuprofen but he messed himself up pretty bad. Lying to doctors is not easy,” Sara shook her head.

“Trust me. It gets easier with time,” Dipper helped Sara set up a small nook for him to sleep in the room. 

“Hopefully I don't have to learn,” she smiled. They finished up and she sighed, placing her hands on her hips. “You're good to go. Get some rest and try not to let his snoring bother you, I'll be in the room down the hall.”

“Thanks again,” Dipper told her, meaning it.

Sara waved him off, “Don't worry about it. Just be glad you guys got the blackout curtains,” she smiled before leaving the room, leaving Dipper alone (with Wirt, but Dipper was 90% sure that Wirt was no longer in his body from how hard he seemed to be sleeping. He hadn't even stirred with the sound of the airbed.)

Dipper laid down, staring at Wirt for a moment longer. He could still see bruises from where he laid on the floor and frowned, rolling over to distract himself before the guilt overtook him.

It didn't take him that long to fall asleep. 

 

Wirt woke up the moment his painkillers wore off. He didn't like the way they had left him feeling, so he just reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the standard pain relievers that Sara had placed there. He downed them with water, noticing  Dipper laying there. 

Dipper seemed to be sleeping soundly. Wirt got up slowly, trying not to wake him. The cast around his foot thudded against the floor unintentionally and dipper shot awake, reaching for his glasses with a stream of mumbles and curses.

“What's going on?” He looked around, startled

“Sorry,” Wirt apologized, “My foots heavier than I thought.”

Dipper took a deep breath before sighing, flopping back down and rubbing his forehead. Wirt spotted the interesting pattern of freckles there.

“So that's where your nickname came from,” Wirt waddled over to Dipper, who had covered his face with his hands. Dipper peeked out from between his fingers at him.

“Yeah,” was his only response.

“It's cute,” Wirt sat down on the airbed next to him.

Dipper turned over on his side, and Wirt ignored the pink tint to Dipper’s cheeks. “What time is it?” Dipper mumbled.

Wirt patted his pockets until he found his phone. “It's almost 10 am,” Wirt informed him. Dipper let out a small groan.

“How are your toes?”

“Hurts. But not too bad,” Wirt looked down at the bright pink cast he got saddled with. “They had to give me a full foot cast.”

“At least it can be signed,” Dipper gave him a small smile. He sat up slowly, sitting next to Wirt now. “How are you feeling? Not just physically but with the whole attack.”

Wirt frowned, pressing his fingers into the inflated bed. “I don’t know somehow it’s… worse this time around. I already went through the whole ordeal with the Unknown but this time it’s worse. There, at least I felt that it was contained. I don’t know what to expect at this point.”

Dipper bumped Wirt gently with his shoulder, “We’ll figure things out. Make them right again.” Wirt gave him a small smile and Dipper held his gaze for a second, “Mabel went to your apartment. She brought you some clothes if you want to get out of that.”

“Yeah, that's…” Wirt’s fingers came up and he toyed with the holes in his shirt over his right shoulder, “That's a good idea.”

“I'll go see who else is awake,” Dipper stood, not bothering to grab his glasses before leaving the room. The door shut behind him with a soft ‘click.’

Wirt learned that getting pants on over his cast was a lot harder than he originally thought it would be. Once the struggle with his sweatpants was over, he found the crutches that had been haphazardly discarded. The next struggle was navigating the steps with crutches, and Wirt eventually just decided to forgo them and jump down the stairs on one leg until he needed his crutches again. 

“Good morning sunshine!” Sara greeted him when he hobbled his way down and into the living room. “How are you feeling?” Sara poked his side and he squirmed the most he could, “There's some food in the kitchen, you should get something in you.” 

The Pines family had taken up the living room again. There was barely eaten toast and miserable looking coffee next to Dipper. “Hey, food first, okay?” Sarah gently nudged him towards the kitchen. Wirt followed her lead into the kitchen, still shaky on his crutches.

Wirt allowed Sara to shove some food into his hands. Or rather, helped him by carrying his plate of food out. He joined the other three in the living room, making sure to prop his foot up. Sara sat on the seat next to him, crossing her legs and placing her hands on her ankles. 

“What's going on right now?” Wirt asked them, “Any updates?” He then proceeded to shove a waffle into his mouth, syrup drizzling from the corner of his mouth.

“We’re going to have to speed up summoning Bill,” Dipper told him, “Right now we don't have a lot of information. It's hard to find something based on such lacking descriptions. There's a lot more mythology than you think. We found a few gods or goddess that it could be.”

“Check it out,” Dipper handed some notes over to Wirt. Wirt settled back, making an effort to not get maple syrup on the paper. 

He recognized names like Gaea, Persephone, but most of the names that were actually recognizable to him. “Why are they crossed out?” He swallowed a little rough, not trying to talk with his mouth full of food.

“We don’t think that it's them, it  _ could _ be someone who's close to them. But they tend to not be the possessing type,” Dipper scratched his cheek.

“People have gotten possessed by deities before?” Wirt looked up, surprised. 

“It's not common. There have been a few cases but those mainly come from myths, last big case I heard of was something claiming it was Pan. No one is sure about that,” Dipper shook his hand side to side.

So Wirt was a rare case. That didn't make him feel any better.

“We don’t know if the thing that wants you is a god, and we don't even know what it wants you for!” Mabel grinned at him.

“That’s nice,” he handed the sheet back to Dipper before setting his plate down. He didn't feel as hungry anymore. Eevie saw that his lap was open and instantly jumped in the vacant spot.

“I found a symbol in your bathroom rug, but so far that doesn't have any leads right now,” Mabel admitted to Wirt.

“Was there anything else there?” Wirt asked.

“Whatever attacked you last night was a demon,” Pacifica was looking over a few pages in a book. “We don’t know if it's hell demon or something else.”

“There's more than just those demons?” Wirt was surprised.

“The idea of demons tends to change plane to plane,” she answered like it was nothing more than common knowledge.

“So you don't know what plane it's from?” Wirt asked.

“Hard to tell. Honestly, even without anything summoning them, different type of demons always run around. The symbol has to be related to his master,” Dipper chewed the top of a pen.

“How do you know it was a demon?” Wirt asked.

“It smelled like sulfur in your place, usually it means demon,” Mabel answered, “It did smell weirdly like flowers too,” Mabel tapped her chin as she thought about it. 

“Fae,” Dipper said it fast. “It could be some kind of fae, if it's a fae it narrow downs a lot of our options,” he sort of jumped like he was suddenly given life, nearly knocking down the cup of coffee next to him as he rushed to grab his laptop. 

“I hate fae!” Pacifica cursed, tilting her head back. 

“You're only mad that the ones in Gravity Falls didn't accept those teeth you gave them,” Mabel rolled her eyes with good nature. Wirt felt like that was a story that could wait for a later point.

“They were good teeth!” Pacifica frowned and Sara gave Wirt a look that made it clear that she had no idea what she had gotten into.

“When are we planning on summoning Bill now?” Wirt still wondered if it was a good idea to have Greg join them. He worried for his brother’s safety now more than ever.

Dipper looked up at Wirt, thinking for a moment. “Do you think you’ll be up for it tomorrow?” Dipper wanted to make sure that Wirt had a bit more rest in him before they did the summoning. 

Wirt nodded, “That should be okay.” Even if he wasn’t, Wirt didn’t want to waste any more time. 

“Is Greg still going to be there?” Mabel asked him.

“Tomorrow is what, Friday? He might drive in but I can tell him to stay home,” Wirt was tempted too, thinking about Greg getting even more involved with all of this made his stomach hurt.

“Do you want him to be there?” Dipper asked as if sensing his apprehension. 

Wirt pressed his lips together, his mouth forming a thin line. “I don’t know if it’ll be safe for him,” he admitted. Wirt felt a bit guilty, feeling like he was treating Greg like a child. Dipper just nodded in understanding. 

“Right, then we’ll do it tomorrow,” Dipper stated. “Sara, are you…?”

She shook her head, “No. I already took today off from work. Rather not take another one.” 

“Where do you work?” Mabel asked and the two of them began to chat. Wirt just leaned back against the loveseat.  They were really doing this now. Wirt zoned out the conversation and just snuggled back, wrapping himself in a blanket. 

He sent Greg a message to let him know the updated plan. Of course, Greg sent him several frowny faces and a pouty message, but Wirt felt like it was for the better that Greg stayed home. Dipper had his nose buried in a book and Wirt could only hope that he was able to find something solid.

“I found something,” Dipper interrupted Sara and Mabel.

Wirt picked his head up, shifting a bit closer to Dipper. “What'd you find?”

“Something on the creature from last night,” Dipper glanced at Wirt, “It definitely was some sort of fae demon. It's a servant, usually one that's sent out as a warning.”

“A warning for what?” Mabel looked over her brother's shoulder and he shifted away from her, which just egged her on to lay on him. Dipper accepted his fate. 

“That something is going to rise. Asmondal, it says,” Dipper answered. 

“Asmondal?” The hair on the back of his neck stood up at that. The name sounded mundane but something unnerved him about it and the food in his stomach didn't seem to settle well.

“Yeah, I'm working on finding out who that is,” Dipper bit his lower lip, shifting his jaw so his front teeth ran over it. 

Asmondal. Wirt sat back again. Well, at least they had a name now. “Are more servants going to come after me?”

“Probably,” Dipper was at least honest.

“You do have this though “ Pacifica leaned over and handed Wirt the necklace with the frog charm. “It should be able to prevent anything from getting near you, they're aware you're there but it's going to essentially put a bubble of protection around you,” Wirt wanted to ask what she had done to it. The chain was new, but Wirt couldn't find any other physical changes. He placed it around his neck. 

“Thanks,” he touched the small frog charm. “What about Sara? Or anyone else close to me.”

“Nothing should get close to them,” Mabel assured him, “You're the one this thing wants!” That didn't exactly make Wirt comfortable.

“Good to know,” he felt nauseous at the idea.

“The charm should work. Trust me, nothing bad is going to happen,” Dipper met his eyes. As far as Dipper was aware, nothing was going to stand a chance and stand in his way of protecting Wirt. Wirt held his gaze for a moment, tapping his arm.

“I trust you,” he said it firmly after a bit of silence. 

“Everything will be okay in the end.”

Wirt smiled, “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all of the lore in this story im creating on my own (and will use for like... actual comics and stuff)  
> shout out to my friend mac for beta reading and letting me talk his ear off (or, his eyes off? since we talk through discord mainly)  
> have fun with this guys  
> again, hit me up anytime on social media!!! i have lonely bitch syndrome  
> also i do have a playlist for songs i listen to when writing this, or songs that i feel fit the tone of the story so im down to link that if any of you guys want it


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for a panic attack  
> sorry if this chapter feels rushed there's a lot going on at once here

“Almost done!”

“Try not to take up the whole thing, I'll never hear the end of it if you do,” Wirt smiled, his arms still over his eyes via Mabel’s instructions. 

“Don't worry, there's plenty of space left,” came Mabel’s chipper reply. He could hear the marker scraping against his cast and could feel the vibrations that it made. 

“Good to know,” Wirt was comfortable at least. Mabel was taking a long time, drawing on his cast as if it was the utmost important thing right now. He knew that she was using it as a way to distract him. Wirt couldn’t be mad at her for that. A distraction was what he needed right now and it felt nice to feel light and be able to laugh after seeing the man on his ceiling.

“It'll be gorgeous!” Mabel patted his shin. “Annnnnd…. Done! You can look now,” she leaned back, capping the sharpie. She admired her worked and nodded with satisfaction.

Wirt sat up slowly, looking down at his bright pink cast. He had to lean in an odd way so he could properly see what Mabel had drawn. It was a surprisingly well-done drawing (for the surface she was working with) of a sun and moon. “Thanks,” Wirt told her, giving Mabel a small smile. 

“No problem! It looked pretty boring,” Mabel gently patted the cast. Wirt’s foot was resting on the coffee table on top of a pillow. Sara had left for work, leaving the four them at her home. Pacifica had left to go grab them coffee (Wirt usually preferred tea, but hadn’t been able to sleep the night before). Dipper was running around the house getting everything ready. “Is everything almost ready, Dip-Dop?” Mabel called out.

Wirt wasn’t sure of Dipper’s exact location in the house, but from somewhere above the two of them Dipper answered. “Yeah! We’re good to go,” Wirt heard his footsteps before he saw Dipper coming down the stairs. “We just need to wait for Pacifica now.”

His anxiety came back, not that it had ever been completely gone. 

“She should be back soon,” Mabel stood up, placing her hands on her hips. 

“That’s good, the sooner we get this over with, the better,” Dipper nodded before heading over to the two of them. Wirt shifted, going to stand up but Dipper just collapsed on the couch next to him, laying in the position he landed in for a moment before shifting and sitting in what looked like a more comfortable position.

He leaned into Wirt, just a bit, his shoulder touching his bicep although Dipper didn’t rest his head on him. Mabel laid down on the floor, grabbing her phone and scrolling through it. “I need coffee,” Dipper mumbled, turning his head and actually burying it in Wirt’s shoulder.

Wirt was pretty sure that neither of them got much sleep the night before. Even after Dipper stated that he was turning out, Wirt had seen the blue glow of his laptop on the wall next to his bed the night before (Dipper hadn’t moved out of his room, although Wirt had moved out of Sara’s). Plus, Dipper’s eyebags were matching his own. Mabel looked the best out of the trio, although she also looked pretty bad. When he saw Pacifica that morning, he was surprised by how put together she looked. She had lacked eyebags and her hair looked nice and brushed. When he asked her if she slept well she shrugged and answered, “No. Not really. But one of us needs to look presentable in case someone bothers us.”

The door opened and Pacifica walked through. “You summoned her,” Mabel sat up, grinning at her brother before going over and helping her wife with the four cups of coffee. She pressed a kiss to Pacifica’s cheek.

“How’s everything going?” Pacifica asked, plucking her drink from the carrier it had been put in.

“We’re done with all the preparations,” Mabel answered. Dipper reached, giving Wirt his cup first before taking his own. Wirt mumbled a quick thanks before taking a sip, not caring for the heat of it.

“It’s an easy summoning so it should be quick,” Dipper frowned a bit, mainly to himself. He had summoned Bill before when he was a kid and he knew it really didn’t take that much effort, it probably took them more effort to protect themselves than what they really needed to do. But he didn’t want to risk anything. Bill could still be tugging them along on a wild goose chase for all Dipper knew. “We’re ready for anything that can happen,” he took off the lid of his coffee — a dangerous game.

“Are you ready?” Pacifica was looking at Wirt. He was toying with the frog charm on his necklace.

“As I’ll ever be,” Wirt gave her a smile that he knew was sheepish. “I’m just wondering what Sara’s neighbors are going to think.”

“Hopefully that we’re just an odd film crew with amazing special effects!” Mabel shrugged. “To the backyard!” She grabbed the old journal two that Dipper still carried with him before she walked to the kitchen and out Sara’s sliding glass doors. Pacifica followed after her.

Dipper stood, taking Wirt’s coffee from him without a word. Wirt struggled to stand for a moment before he caught his balance enough to grab his crutch. Together, the two of them walked out into the backyard.

There was a circle of candles set in her backyard with one missing that Pacifica was using to light the others up. In the middle was a picture of Wirt. Mabel had printed out a copy of the most recent picture that had been taken without him aware of it. (“We need to give him something to focus on,” Mabel had explained, “He’s pretty weak nowadays. If he tries to harm you, we’re already ready for that. Don’t worry about it!” She patted his arm before walking off.) Even with her reassurances, Wirt didn’t like the sight of a picture of himself having its eyes X’d out. 

Dipper wasn’t the one to do the summoning. Pacifica, to Wirt’s surprise, was. “Does she usually do it?” Wirt asked, leaning over to Dipper so it was quiet.

“She pronounces things better,” Dipper shrugged and if Wirt didn’t know better, he would think that there was a small pout on Dipper’s face when he said that.

Pacifica stepped forward, Mabel holding her coffee while sipping on her own like this was a normal occurrence. “ _ Triangulum, entangulum. Meteforis dominus ventium. Meteforis venetisarium! _ ”

Wirt would’ve focused on the fact that Pacifica’s pronunciation was perfect if it wasn’t for the fact that she had begun to chant something, her eyes glowing blue and the sky turning grey and the world looking as if all color had been drained from it. 

An eye appeared. It blinked once, staring at them before it materialized into its full form. Bill Cipher placed his hands on his hips, or, where his hips would be if he wasn’t just a triangle. 

**_“MASSACHUSETTS! HAVEN’T BEEN HERE SINCE THE LATE 1600’s! MAN I HAVEN’T BEEN IN THIS DIMENSION IN SO LONG! THINGS HAVE REALLY CHANGED,”_ ** Bill snapped his fingers, looking at them.  **_“PINETREE! SHOOTING STAR! YOU’RE SO TALL NOW! YOU’RE STILL SHORTER PINETREE!”_ ** He had no face, yet Dipper knew that he was grinning.

**_“SO! WHAT DO YOU KIDS WANT?”_ ** Bill asked.

“We summoned you like you told us to. We need answers that aren’t cryptic nonsense,” Dipper stepped forward now, glaring at Bill.

**_“HERE I WAS THINKING WE’LL BE FRIENDLY. CHUCKLES,”_ ** the eye landed on him,  **_“YOU’RE LOOKING REMARKABLY GOOD FOR SOMEONE IN YOUR POSITION.”_ **

“Someone in my position!?” Wirt couldn’t help but speak up. “What exactly do you  _ mean _ ?” 

**_“SOMEONE WHO’S BEING USED BY MELINOË OF COURSE! I KNOW YOU GUYS THOUGHT IT WAS ASMONDAL BUT THAT WOMAN HAS BEEN ASLEEP FOR MORE THAN A MILLENIUM, IT DOESN’T SURPRISE ME THAT SHE WAS BEING USED AS A COVER. SORRY TO BURST YOUR BUBBLE BUT YOU WERE WRONG!”_ ** Bill looked at them as if expecting to see some sort of big reaction.

“Who’s Melinoë?” Wirt asked out loud, looking at the Pines family for some sort of answer.

“Melinoë?” Pacifica looked surprised and as if she recognized that name.

“What does Melinoë how to do with this?” Dipper asked Bill, his shoulders tensed up as his glare harshened.

“Who’s Melinoë?” Wirt repeated himself, feeling more confused now than ever.

“She’s a greek goddess, or a chaotic nymph depending on who you asked, she’s seen as the bringer of nightmares and madness,” Dipper finally answered for Wirt.

“There’s information on her, a bunch of books and research. But she isn’t supposed to be awake,” Mabel looked over at Wirt before looking back at Bill who was sort of watching them with a casual interest.

**_"MELINOË IS AWAKE ALRIGHT. A REAL PIECE OF WORK TOO. SHE’S_ ** SUPPOSED  **_TO BE ASLEEP BUT DECIDED TO WAKE UP UNINVITED. SAYING HER NAME RIGHT NOW IS A BAD IDEA ACTUALLY!”_ ** Bill let out a cold laugh.

“What does she want with me?” Wirt asked, his voice quiet. A sudden chill had overtaken his veins. He looked down at the cast on his foot.

**_“TO USE YOU, CHUCKLES! I’M ASSUMING ANYWAY. I’VE REALLY ONLY HEARD THE TAIL END OF RUMOURS. THERE’S INDISPUTABLE PROOF THAT SHE’S AWAKE THOUGH! OR IS WAKING UP thROuGh yOu,”_ ** Bill’s body flashed, pictures going by quickly. Wirt just saw a lot of red, a lot of dirt, and a lot of trees.

“How can we trust you? You could be lying to us,” Dipper moved closer to Wirt, covering him with his body instinctively. 

**_“I LIKE YOUR DISTRUST PINETREE! ANGER WAS ALWAYS A GOOD LUCK FOR YOU,”_ ** Bill gave Dipper four finger guns, two arms appearing from his body only to go back inside of his body,  **_“LISTEN. AND LISTEN CLOSELY BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO REPEAT MYSELF. WHILE NO ONE IN ANY DIMENSION HAS ACTUALLY SEEN HER, WE KNOW SHE’S THERE. SHE’S SLOWLY GETTING INTO EVERY DIMENSION! I’M IMPRESSED ACTUALLY. ITZPAPALOTL IS HAVING THE HARDEST TIME WITH HER RIGHT NOW!”_ ** Bill paused, as if waiting for them all to laugh like old friends,  **_“I DON’T WANT HER TO RISE UP EITHER. AS SOON AS SHE TAKES OVER YOUR DIMENSION, EVERYTHING WILL BE GONE LIKE THAT!”_ ** Bill snapped his fingers, a small blue flame appearing, " **_OF COURSE, I BET YOU’RE  WONDERING, “but bill, didn’t you try to take over our dimension?””_ **

**_“AND YES! YOU’RE CORRECT. BUT YOU DON’T WANT HER COMING AROUND AND I DON’T WANT HER TO GET THIS PLACE BEFORE I HAVE A CHANCE TO TRY AGAIN! I ALSO DON’T WANT TO BE ENSLAVED BY HER. HAPPENED ONCE, SHE’S A TERRIBLE BOSS,”_ ** Bill rolled his one eye. Wirt couldn’t imagine him being overpowered by anyone considering his demeanor. 

“How is this helping us?” Dipper questioned.

**_“I GAVE YOU A NAME. WHICH IS A LOT MORE THAN WHAT YOU HAD. AND I TOLD YOU THAT CHUCKLES WAS GOING TO BE USED AS THE GATEWAY,”_ ** Bill glared at Dipper.

“You did not tell us that!” Wirt couldn’t help the crack in his voice.

**_“I DID JUST NOW DIDN’T I?”_ ** Bill leaned back, crossing his arms behind him.  **_“I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU, CHUCKLES. NOTHING PERSONAL BUT REALLY OTHER THAN YOUR BIT WITH THE BEAST THERE’S NOTHING REMARKABLE ABOUT YOU. SHE THINKS OTHERWISE BUT SHE’S ALSO CRAZY! EVEN IF YOU STILL DIE, WHICH WILL DEFINITELY HAPPEN, I WOULDN’T CARE, BUT I REALLY DON’T WANT HER TO RISE AND TAKE THINGS OVER. I’M JUST GLAD THAT BROTHER O’ YOURS,”_ ** he tried to mimic Greg’s voice,  **_“DECIDED TO LISTEN TO MY SUBTLE SUGGESTIONS AND TELL YOU ABOUT PINETREE OVER HERE!”_ ** Bill gestured to Dipper.

**_“I MEAN LOOK AT YOU TWO! EVEN IF YOU DIE AT LEAST BE HAPPY THAT I BROUGHT YOU TWO TOGETHER. I THINK I SHOULD BECOME A MATCHMAKER! RIGHT, SHOOTING STAR?”_ ** Bill looked at Mabel who stuck up both her middle fingers.

Wirt felt like he was fifteen again. His chest was tight.

**_“I DON’T HAVE A WHOLE LOT OF ENERGY TO STAY HERE RIGHT NOW! I GOT SOME PLACE TO BE ANYWAY. SEE YOU IN YOUR DREAMS!”_ ** Bill dismissed himself.   
  


Wirt couldn’t breathe. There was a small ringing in his ears and he felt uncomfortable. His clothing was too tight, the world around him was too much and he couldn’t think about anything else other than the fact that he was going to die. He was going to die. Bill had confirmed that there was nothing they could do. No matter what he was going to die.

“Wirt,” someone was speaking to him softly. “Wirt, hey, can I touch you?” He wasn’t aware of his own answer but someone’s hand was on his arm and he was being led back inside the house. Dipper, his mind somehow supplied, was sitting him down. 

“Take a some deep breaths,” Dipper grabbed his hands, gently coaxing him now. His voice was calm, gentle, yet solid at the same time. Wirt focused on the freckles on the backs of Dipper’s hands. He spotted patterns in them, shapes, symbols. An arrow. A smiley face. There were a few that had bunched together in an odd circle, looking as if it was scattering away at the edges, reminding him of a pixelated character. 

Time seemed to drag on until he felt the couch underneath him and could truly feel the warmth of Dipper’s touch and not just the heavyweight it supplied. His breath caught back to him although the ringing of his ears was still there.

“You okay?” Dipper asked, scanning his voice as he chewed his bottom lip out of worry. Wirt stared at that, too. Focused on it, the white of Dipper’s teeth pressed into the red tint of his mouth. The fact that Dipper’s front teeth had the smallest gap in front of them, showing that they weren’t perfect, yet they were still perfect enough to have never needed braces.

He must have stared at them for too long because Dipper was speaking to him again. “Wirt?”

His body still felt fuzzy. His clothes still felt too tight, “I’m okay.” He told Dipper anyway, despite knowing his hands were shaking. 

Dipper didn’t seem to believe him and didn’t take his hands away completely. They were still lightly touching, by the fingers alone. Wirt intertwined their fingers together on instinct. “You’re not going to… you won’t die, not on my watch,” Dipper told him, meeting Wirt’s eyes. Dipper could feel Wirt’s heart beat, just faintly, from the pulse in his thumb. It was erratic. His hands were still clammy, and his grip on Dipper’s hands wasn’t as strong as his own. 

Wirt didn’t answer. A long beat of silence.

“You’re going to survive this. Trust me, Wirt,” Dipper pleaded just a little. He broke the eye contact in favor of sweeping Wirt’s face with his gaze to read him. 

“I trust you,” Wirt answered. His voice sounded weak, a little bit faint. Dipper’s shoulders dropped in relief.

“I just, I want one thing,” Wirt was the one to make eye contact this time.

“What is it?”

“Can we go home? To my house. My parents,” Wirt asked, sounding unsure of himself and his words. “I would just feel better if I was close to them,” he told Dipper.

“Yeah. Of course,” Dipper gave his hands a small squeeze and gave Wirt a smile. His knees were beginning to ache from the kneeling position he was in but he didn’t bother to move.

“Thanks,” Wirt gave Dipper a squeeze back that was just as weak as his voice.

Dipper looked above Wirt, out to where Mabel and Pacifica were cleaning up in the backyard. Mabel approached the sliding glass doors and tilted her head just slightly, frowning with an eyebrow raised. Pacifica’s gaze was locked on the back of Wirt’s head before it slid to Dipper and she made an eerily similar expression to his sister. He nodded.

“Everything is good out there,” Mabel stepped over the threshold, walking over and placing the candles she had carried inside on the table next to where Wirt was sitting and Dipper was kneeling.

“We’re going to go to Wirt’s parents house,” Dipper told Mabel and Pacifica.

“Any special reason?” Pacifica asked.

Dipper looked at Wirt, the two of them making eye contact again. Wirt shrugged.

“It’ll just be better to go there,” Dipper answered vaguely. Pacifica would be able to pick up on the situation, anyway. He let go of Wirt’s hands, their fingers taking a moment to separate. Dipper didn’t really want to let go. He stood up, relieving the ache in his knees.

“I can call my mom today. I’ve been meaning too, anyway. Let her know that we’re on our way,” Wirt told them all, looking solely at Dipper.

“Sounds good,” Dipper nodded, agreeing.

“Oh! I’ll finally get to meet Greg!” Mabel’s excitement elevated the room a bit. Wirt glanced at her and she gave him a beaming smile.

“I’ll go call her then,” Wirt returned the bright smile with a smaller one of his own. He grabbed his crutch again, which Dipper or him (he couldn’t quite remember) had leaned against the table, before leaving the room. 

When he was gone, Mabel looked at Dipper. The smile was gone from her face. “What’s the plan here?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” Dipper admitted. 

“Bill helped us out a lot, considering who he is,” Pacifica crossed her arms over her chest.

“Still. We have no idea what to do here,” Mabel looked at Pacifica now. She frowned a little bit at her wife. Dipper didn’t want to be honest and say that he was terrified about all of the possibilities that could arise from this situation. He scratched his cheek. 

“I’m going to run through Grunkle Ford’s contacts. Maybe hit Jean up again and see if there’s out there that he could up with, right now we need to scan mythology for anything we could use against her. And try to find a way to make sure that Wirt will stay safe, no matter what,” no matter what even though Dipper knew that if they failed, the world will come to an end anyway. Descent into pure madness.

“Fighting a goddess is going to be an interesting thing to have on our resume,” Mabel joked lightly.

Melinoë wasn’t an inherently being. But deities tended to become restless, frenzied after a long sleep. Dipper pressed his lips together.

“Let’s fight a goddess,” he looked at the two of them.   
  


Wirt made arrangements with his parents. “Three others, including me. Mabel and Pacifica are married,” he told his mom.

_ “Wirt, flaquito, what’s going on?”  _ His mom sounded worried.  _ “Greg’s been worried ever since you canceled your plans with him.” _

Wirt knew. He  _ knew  _ that this wasn’t a conversation that he could have on the phone. “I’ll explain when we get there mom. I just… I broke a few toes. And I really want to be home with you guys right now,” those were the truth. Just not the whole truth.

_ “You broke your toes!? And it still doesn’t explain why you need to bring your friends along. Is Sara visiting too? I’ve been talking to her mothers a lot lately, her mom misses her,” _ his mom said.

“No, she has work. But I think she was on the phone with her mom the other day. I’ll tell her to visit,” Wirt ran a hand through his hair. When was the last time he had seen his mother? He lived about an hour away from his home. He hadn’t been making much of an effort to visit them lately. Guilt and shame began to build up in his chest.

_ “And your friends?” _

“I’ll explain that when we get there, mom. My toes too. I don’t think — it’s not really something I can explain on the phone,” he wasn’t sure if he could explain it at all. Wirt needed to though. At least some of the story, he wasn’t sure if he should tell his mom and stepdad about the world being plunged into madness if they didn’t succeed. Greg was someone else he was worried about. He didn’t trust Greg to not poke around enough to figure it out on his own. 

That was a struggle he was going to have to figure out at a later date.

_ “Okay baby, if you say so. Should we expect you guys tomorrow? You guys can come at any time.” _

“Yeah. Yeah, tomorrow sounds good. Perfect, actually,” Wirt leaned his head back against the living room wall. He swallowed, his mouth feeling incredibly dry and his throat like it had been stuffed with cotton. He could hear Dipper’s voice faintly in the kitchen. Not loud enough for Wirt to be able to make it out. 

_ “See you then, Wirt. I love you.” _

“I love you too, mom,” Wirt meant it. He hung up and slipped his phone back into his pocket. He waited for the voices to teeter out into the kitchen before shambling back inside.

“My mom is expecting us tomorrow. She said we can show up whenever we want,” he told them.

“We’ll leave in the morning,” Dipper looked around for approval. Mabel nodded, her curls bouncing as she did.

“The sooner I get to meet Greg, the better!”

Wirt smiled just a little again, “I should warn you now that he just adopted a dog. She’s apparently really nervous and excitable and likes to jump.”

“Even better!” Mabel cheered. A dog actually was good news. Most animals were great protectors from things, or at least they were able to warn someone before anything happened.

That night, they all ate dinner with Sara. Nobody felt like cooking anything so they just ordered pizza, although Mabel insisted on baking brownies and Sara cheered her on after three glasses of wine. No one told her all the details, either.

When she asked about Bill, they all sort of stopped for a moment. Pacifica had the excuse, at least, of food being in her mouth.

“It went as well as we expected to,” Wirt was the one to answer, sort of startling Dipper who had been preparing to speak. “We learned a bit. But nothing that was super valuable,” he lied to Sara.

Sara looked at him, “That sucks dude. Sorry,” she seemed to be genuinely sorry. At least one of them was being honest.

Dipper than began to fill her in on the bare minimum details. He didn’t tell her about Wirt being used as a gate. Or the fact that it was, in fact, a goddess that they were dealing with. 

Wirt was wishing that their Asmondal lead had been correct. He didn’t want to deal with a well known goddess that was Greek. Greek deities tended to be the most cruel.

Dinner finished up quickly. Dipper and Mabel did the dishes after some insisting. Wirt sat on a kitchen chair and he watched them.

Mabel seemed insistent on trying to splash Dipper with water. He retaliated by squeezing the soap bottle at her so that it blew bubbles. Pacifica and Sara had ended up in the living room, talking loudly about some book series that they were both into. They were arguing theories about who the main character was going to end up with. 

It seemed too calm. Too domestic.

Wirt relished in the absolutely evil cackle Mabel let out when she managed to get Dipper’s front wet with sinks spraying hose. He enjoyed the yelp she let out when Dipper just outright covered her in dish soap even more. Dipper had grinned an almost manic grin as he messed around with his sister like they were kids.

Still, it came to an end earlier than he had wanted to.

Around nine, they all began to say their goodnights and headed off into their separate rooms. They were planning to leave incredibly early the next morning, around 5:30 or so so that they could pick up the luggage that was left over at their hotel rooms and so that they could officially check out, since no one had decided to do that yet.

Wirt took a few sleeping pills that night since he didn’t trust his anxiety to not keep him awake. He rolled over onto his side carefully with his cast and looked at Dipper.

Dipper had put his glasses on, his bangs held up by a hair tie Pacifica had given him. His brows were furrowed as he glared at his computer screen. “Try to get some actual sleep tonight,” Wirt told him.

Dipper looked at him, raising a brow. “What—?”

“You didn’t sleep last night. I know. Try to get some sleep. This stuff is important but you need your rest too,” Wirt stated, feeling like he was talking to Greg for a moment.

“I will,” Dipper said.

“Promise?” Wirt held his gaze as he raised an eyebrow. 

“I promise,” Dipper smiled.

“Pinky promise?” Wirt’s tone became joking although he did stick out his pinky like he would with Greg.

“Pinky promise,” Dipper laughed lightly. He climbed to the edge of the airbed he was sleeping on and interlocked their pinkies. “Only if you get some sleep too, though.”

“I’ll sleep just fine,” Wirt promised him even though he was sure it was empty. Dipper scanned his face for any lie before nodding.

“Good. Goodnight, Wirt,” Dipper let go of his pinkie and retreated back onto his airbed.

“Goodnight, Dipper,” Wirt said before Dipper shut the lights off. He shut off his laptop not much later than that. Wirt settled in for the night.   
  


Wirt was being pulled deep.

He was under ground. It smelled damp. The mud was squishy underneath his feet. He tried to go further in, sticking out his hand so that he could follow the wall out. But the further he continued the deeper it got. The darker the cave got.

He could hear faint whispers somewhere in the dark. Every now and then he would look around the cave, only to see eyes looking right back at him.

He was growing tired. His legs were beginning to feel heavy and so was his head. He decided to risk it, leaning against the wall and closing the eyes to collect himself. When he opened them he tried to move on but found that the resistance had grown.

Wirt looked down. There was water rising from the ground. Dark, deep water that looked to be the blackest black in the cave. Wirt tried to walk further. He tried to get away from the part of the cave where the water was rising but soon he found himself stuck. 

Something reached out from the ground and gripped onto his ankle, holding him firmly in place now. The grip didn’t let up no matter how much he resisted. Wirt held his breath as the water rose to his nose and shut his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see anyway.

Something else gripped onto him, he could feel something grab onto his wrists now. It was trying to pull him down. Down into the ground where nothing would ever survive. He landed on his knees and sunk into the soft, muddied ground. The necklace around his neck had tightened like someone or something was trying to tear it off of him.

His arms were pulled down, stuck now between a crack that had appeared in the ground. Wirt gasped for breath when he felt claws dig into his skin. It filled his lungs and his throat. He opened his eyes.   
  


Wirt’s eyes shot open as he launched out of his bed, coughing aggressively. He still couldn’t move and he couldn’t breathe. Something cold was pressed against his cheek and his left arm was uncomfortably pinched in between two things. He kept coughing, feeling something come out of his mouth whenever he did. 

His arm, he realized, was stuck between the bed and the wall and he began to panic. With his panic came more coughing which created more panic when he saw liquid on the wall next to him. Wirt tried to pull his arm out. He could feel the skin on it tear as it caught on the metal bed frame. The friction began to irritate it. His  circulation was being cut off and he felt the familiar numbness begin to take hold.

“Wirt?” The lamp in the room was turned on.

“Wirt, ohmygod,” Dipper was rushing over to him immediately. “Wirt, try to calm down. Please,” he sounded frustrated and worry at the same time. Dipper tried to get his arm out. “Wirt I need you to calm down,” his voice came out sterner this time. Wirt didn’t stop his ragged breathing as he tried to catch his breath after all those coughs but he stopped moving.

Dipper managed to free his arm. He also sat Wirt up. “Stay here,” he didn’t need to tell Wirt twice. Wirt didn’t argue with him before he left the room.

He came back with bandages in his arms, and a towel. He handed Wirt the towel which he used to wipe off any remaining wetness from his face with his good hand. Dipper began to work on his other without a word. Wirt had succeeded in tearing some skin off. His arm was mainly bruised but there were undeniable nail imprints as well, claw scratches. He was bleeding too much for someone who’s arm had just gotten stuck.

The water on the wall where Wirt’s face had been pressed again was dark and muddy, full of the earth. He could still taste it.

“I was dreaming,” his voice felt scratchy and sounded rough. “I was having a  _ nightmare _ ,” Wirt clenched the towel in his hand.

Dipper didn’t say anything for a moment. “A nightmare,” he said, finally. “Jesus,” he closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. He looked at Wirt, he tilted his head back and looked at his neck. “You were choked?”   


“Something was trying to take the necklace,” Wirt answered as Dipper’s fingers traced over a bruise gently. It just reminded Wirt that he was close to death. Something was out there and it was going to try to kill him. He found it a bit funny, thinking darkly there might’ve been a point where he wanted to actually die but now that he was being faced with the actual prospect of death he didn’t want it. Wirt hadn’t wanted it for a while but the point was still there. He tried to focus on Dipper instead.

“Was anywhere else hurt?”

“I was grabbed by my ankles. I don’t think they bruised though,” he didn’t want to check. Seeing the bruises in the shape of hands on both arms was enough for Wirt. 

“Are you—”   


“I’m tired,” Wirt just cut Dipper off, not wanting to talk about it. Dipper nodded his head.

“Are you going to be okay to sleep, though?” Dipper’s hands had already dropped from Wirt’s neck. They kept going for his hands but they never fully touched. Just the brush of their fingers.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

Dipper pressed his mouth into a small frown. “Give me a moment,” Dipper told him. He cleaned up any remaining mess, including the mud water on the wall and the supplies he used to clean Wirt up with. Wirt expected Dipper to go to Pacifica and Mabel. Instead, after cleaning up, he grabbed the blanket off his bed. 

“Are you okay with me sleeping with you tonight?” Dipper asked. “I just want to make sure that nothing else happens tonight, that you don’t do that again,” he gestured to the wall.

Wirt stared at him. “Okay,” he answered after a few beats of silence.

Dipper climbed back onto the bed with him and made Wirt move over so that he was next to the wall now. He covered them both up with his blanket, kicking the one Wirt had been used before to the floor. “It’s wet, anyway,” he reasoned with a shrug. “Do you want me to turn off the lights?” Dipper asked.

“No, I can reach it easier,” Wirt reached over and turned off the lamp. He and Dipper tried to settle against each other. Eventually, they laid back to chest, not touching. Wirt’s arm was throbbing as the feeling came back into it.

Dipper stayed awake, waiting until Wirt’s breathing became more rhythmic and his body was less tense. He stayed awake even longer, waiting for the sounds of choking or for Wirt to thrash against him wildly.

When nothing happened, Dipper closed his eyes and rested his head against Wirt’s collarbones. Eventually, Dipper matched the lull of Wirt’s breathing and allowed himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for my hiatus, school starting got me, plus my grandmother visited us, and also i came out with a podcast "As Long As It's Spooky" which you can find on stitcher, apple podcast, spotify, etc! i cohost with my friend aria so uh tell me what you think!  
> on another exciting note i offically got admitted into my dream school so! senior year is going pretty well  
> have fun with this, again sorry for the rushed feeling but this chapter is 5666 words name


	10. Ten

Dipper woke up the next morning with his face pressed between Wirt’s shoulder blades. His phone was buzzing and he turned over and shut off the alarm. Next, to him, Wirt stirred but didn't wake up even with the alarm. Dipper figured it wouldn't hurt to let him sleep just a bit more. He managed to slip out from between Wirt and the wall, resigning himself to crawling out of bed from the bottom rather than just climbing over Wirt. Wirt turner over in his sleep and Dipper paused for a moment, watching as Wirt just sighed and snuggled into where Dipper was.

He lingered for a moment longer before leaving the bedroom, heading to the bathroom where he got ready for the day. Mabel and Pacifica were both already up, Mabel, per usual, too cheery for the morning when she passed him in the hallway. Dipper went downstairs when he smelled coffee. Sara was up and awake. She looked over at him, already pouring him a cup. “Where’s Wirt?”

“Still sleeping, I thought he would need a few extra minutes,” Dipper explained, accepting the cup of coffee with a small thanks.

Sara hummed, “Well, you might as well wake him now. Otherwise, you're going to have to force him out of bed.”

“Not a morning person?”

“Complete opposite. Even worse when it’s 5:30 am,” Sara raised her brows, smiling a little. She was dressed for work in comfortable yet professional attire that suited a young teacher.

“Do his parents know you guys are coming so early?” Sara asked.

“Yeah. He let them know already,” Dipper nodded.

“That’s good,” Sara leaned back against the kitchen counter. She set her own cup of coffee down. “Mabel mentioned that you guys were probably going to stay there for the rest of the job.”

“She was down here already?”

“She was up before I was.”

“Did she make the coffee?” Dipper had already sipped at it and hadn’t tasted anything weird.

“No. Why, does she suck at it?” Sara seemed a bit amused by the concept.

“Something like that,” Dipper shrugged. It had been a while since Mabel had tampered with regular coffee but Dipper was still on guard for her deadly brews. “I’m going to wake up Wirt,” Dipper told her.

“Good luck,” Sara nodded at him before he left the kitchen. Dipper headed upstairs and went back to the room.

To his surprise, Wirt was already up. He was wrapped in the blankets and his eyes were barely open but he was sitting up in bed. “I thought you would still be sleeping,” Dipper commented.

“Pacifica came in and woke me up,” Wirt mumbled.

“Sara made coffee downstairs if you want any,” Dipper had brought his own cup upstairs with him. He set it down on the bedside table. Wirt watched him move around the room, staring as he deflated the airbed that wasn’t even used the night before.

“Cool,” was Wirt’s only response to coffee.

“You look like that SNL skit of a teenager who just woke up,” Dipper joked.

“It’s like, 5 am,” Wirt whined, leaning slightly so that he was pressed against the wall.

“Almost 6 now,” Dipper didn’t turn to look at him. He instead focused on making sure he wasn’t leaving Sara’s guest room in complete disarray. Wirt grunted a noncommittal noise that expressed his unhappiness at being awake so early. When Dipper was done and sure he had everything he turned to Wirt.

Wirt was sipping his coffee, looking a little bit more awake now.

“That’s my coffee.”

“I know.”

Dipper stared at Wirt. He wondered if Wirt was just like this all of the time and hid it. Or if it was just the exhaustion. “You should start getting ready, we need to leave soon,” Dipper decided to leave the coffee thing alone.

“I will,” Wirt waved his hand. Dipper felt a spark of something fond for a moment, seeing Wirt still rumpled and tired, a bit more blunt than usual and drinking stolen coffee. Wirt was cranky but it was a lot more tolerable than most people’s cranky. Dipper knew that if he met himself when he was cranky, he would instantly punch himself in the face for being so bitchy.

“Do you want me to wait outside the room for you? In case,” Dipper shifted a bag on his shoulder and gestured to Wirt’s crutches.

“I’ll be fine. I can navigate stairs with no issue even with broken toes,” Wirt rolled his eyes.

“What about with coffee in your hand?”

“I’ll die before I spill this coffee,” Wirt took another sip. Dipper smiled.

“Alright. See you downstairs,” he left the room and Wirt to his own devices.

  
Wirt joined them all quickly. Sara was about to leave and he caught her in time to say goodbye. No one was incredibly talkative when they got into the car. It was cold and wet outside, a small drizzle had been coming down nonstop. The skies were dark and grey and Dipper didn’t think that the sun would come out.

Mabel was the designated driver that day. Pacifica was next to her leaving Wirt and Dipper in the back. Wirt was using the space between him and Dipper to prop up his foot. “Time for some tunes,” Mabel reached for the radio and began to fiddle with it until she got her phone connected. Instantly, something bright and electronic began to play. Mabel didn’t waste another moment and pulled out of the driveway. Her head bopped as they got on the road and she sang the lyrics almost too loud.

“Sing with meeeee,” Mabel threw her head back and looked at Pacifica for the briefest moment before turning back to the road. Thankfully.

“No,” Pacifica laughed.

“Why not?” Dipper couldn’t see his sisters face but she was definitely pouting.

“I don’t know the lyrics to this song.”

“Have you learned nothing from being married to me? Make up your own lyrics,” Mabel said it like it was some big revelation.

Wirt was watching the two of them, he was a different angle than Dipper and could probably see more of Mabel’s face than Dipper could. He was smiling, just a small one right now.

It started to rain harder and the noise of it made Wirt jump. Dipper glanced out the window next to him, seeing that the rain was coming down heavily now. Mabel made the windshield wipers go faster and turned up the heat too. The song from her phone changed to something definitely from a musical, which both Mabel and Pacifica knew the lyrics to and sang the duet as it was meant to be sung. But a lot more gay than the recording.

“It’s going to get worse by the time we reach my house,” Wirt looked out his own window.

“How do you know?” Dipper asked. “It’s enough time that it could let up by then.”

Wirt shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t think it will,” he replied.

Dipper didn’t think that was something he should question. Massachusettes was a foreign land from Oregon and California.

“How does your arm feel?” He gestured to it, speaking quiet enough that he hoped Mabel or Pacifica wouldn’t hear. It didn’t seem likely since Mabel was now aggressively yelling the lyrics from the top of her lungs and Pacifica was joining her, getting caught up in her energy.

Wirt touched the arm gently, running his fingers over a bandage that covered the scrapes from the night before. “It’s fine,” he answered Dipper honestly. “I honestly didn’t hurt it that bad in the first place,” he smiled at him, it was a bit warmer than most of his other smiles, “I think I was just caught up in some hysteria.”

“I don’t really blame you for that,” Dipper scratched the back of his neck. “You seemed to sleep soundly for the rest of the night. Did you?”

“No nightmares in sight, so, yeah, pretty sound. Thanks,” Wirt leaned back against the car door. “Did you sleep?”

“I did,” Dipper was not going to mention that sleeping with Wirt was nicer than sleeping alone in his hotel room. He wanted to ask if Wirt wanted the same thing that night. But he didn’t think to ask that in the morning was necessary, it wasn’t very pressing.

  
Eventually, the three of them reached Wirt’s family home. The rain hadn’t stopped at all. Greg was standing on the porch with his dog, staring at them with a wide grin on his face. As soon as they were under the awning, Greg was wrapping Wirt up in a hug. His dog instantly jumped on Wirt too, trying to get in on the hug.

“What? Are you not willing to stand dramatically in the rain for me?” Wirt asked, hugging his brother back.

“It’s freezing cold. Did you guys see the fog on the pond?” Greg asked, taking a few bags without saying anything and leading them inside the house. The house was warm and smelled like pancakes. Greg’s dog trailed after them, running circles around them once they got inside. She picked up a sock and looked at Mabel, wagging her tail with her ears perked and alert. She then began to run around the house.

“No, is it bad this season?” Wirt furrowed his brows.

“I think it’s just the rain,” Greg said. “Mom’s in the kitchen with dad,” he told his brother before shouting, “MOM! WIRT’S HERE! SO ARE HIS FRIENDS!”

Wirt seemed nonplussed by the yelling. Greg’s dog stopped running around the house and instead ran over to where the kitchen was.

“Hi! I’m Mabel,” Mabel moved so she can introduce herself to Greg, finally.

“I know! I’ve seen Dipper’s videos,” Greg grinned at her. “You’re so cool. That’s,” Greg paused until he found his dog, looking at her and pointing at her, “That’s Whispers.” At the sound of her name, Whispers ran back to the two of them and began to circle them both.

“Wirt’s told us about you! You seem super cool,” the two of them were grinning ear to ear. Wirt just let them talk and walked further into the house. “Why is she named Whispers? She seems like a sweet girl.” Mabel bent down to pet Whispers. Whispers paid her back by licking her face, her paws on Mabel’s thighs.

“She can’t bark,” Greg explained and the two of them lapsed into a conversation.

“You guys can take your shoes off,” he told Pacifica and Dipper since Mabel was caught up in conversation with Greg now about colored pencils and the best type of needles to use for what type of yarn.

“Wirt!” His mother’s voice drew his attention. He was instantly wrapped in a hug and he couldn’t help but squeeze his mom back. She smelled like home. His mother pulled away from the hug first and looked at him, scanning his face, “You look tired, mijo. What happened to your arm? You said it was just your toes that were hurt?”

“Um, well,” Wirt wasn’t sure how he could explain everything to his mom. “It’s just a few bumps and scrapes,” Wirt moved his arm away from his mother, “Don’t worry about it.”

Wirt’s mom looked at him, her brows furrowed in an expression very much like Wirt’s as she eyed him suspiciously. Whenever she was satisfied with what she found she looked behind him and smiled at Dipper and Pacifica.

“Sorry for being rude,” Wirt’s mother had the lightest Puerto Rican accent. It was hardly detectable but was definitely still there, “I’m Maria,” it was definitely more noticeable when she said her name.

“Dipper,” he shook her name.

“Pacifica. That’s Mabel over there,” she gestured to her wife who was still talking delightfully with Greg.

“It’s nice to meet you both!”

“Thank you for accepting us into your home, Mrs….” Pacifica paused for a moment, suddenly aware that she had no idea if their mother shared a last name with either of her sons or if she just went by her maiden name.

“You can just call me Maria. After one divorce and remarriage, I’ve given up on trying to get people to remember which name I go by anymore,” Maria rolled her eyes.

“Well, thank you for accepting us in your home, Maria,” Pacifica gave her a charming smile.

“It’s no issue. You’ll just have to explain everything that’s going on, first. Magan is making breakfast in the kitchen so we can wait till after!” Maria waved her hands. “Do you guys need anything till then? Greg, baby, can you show them where to put their things? Wirt, you can just go to your room,” she smiled at both of her sons.

“We’ll just put our stuff away. Thanks again,” Dipper said.

“It’s really no trouble,” Maria assured him. “Greg?”

“I’m going, mom,” Greg told her.

“You can just put your stuff in my room,” Wirt looked at Dipper. Dipper was still staring at him, blinking a bit slowly as he tried to process the information. “Unless you don’t want to, of course. I’m sure we can find a place for you to sleep. It’s just that we only have one real guest bedroom and —”

“No! No! It’s fine. Your room sounds good, yeah,” Dipper gave Wirt a sheepish smile. Wirt returned it with a shy one of his own.

“Good,” Wirt nodded.

“Yep. So. Lead me to your room,” Dipper stated. His hands felt sweaty like he was a teenager again and not a man sharing a bedroom with another man who was attractive and someone who Dipper was very likely on cuddling again. Not that Wirt and Dipper had never touched before. They had touched plenty of times, obviously. But they weren’t like… anything and Dipper didn’t even think he wanted to be anything it was just a response to Wirt’s anxieties and Dipper’s way of soothing it over.

(Of course, Dipper was just making excuses for himself because his brain was blaring alarms at the idea of sharing Wirt’s childhood room with him).

Dipper and Wirt left their stuff in his room. Dipper stood there to just… take it all in.

“The carpet is… something,” Dipper looked down at the burnt orange rug.

“I know. Our house was built in like the late ‘60s. Every time we’ve changed the rug my mom just buys the same color. Says it adds ‘character’ to the room, it’s ugly but it’s liveable,” Wirt rolled his eyes, “It’s honestly not that different from how it was when I was younger.” He sat down on his bed, a bit dramatically before he flopped onto his back. There were still posters from when he was a teenager hanging up. The clock on his wall was still working and ticking a bit too loud.

Dipper sat down on the bed next to him. “My room back at home is like that too,” he was still looking around, taking in any information about a teenaged Wirt that he could find. Part of him felt a little sad that they didn’t know each other as teenagers but he couldn’t imagine Wirt liking the idea of being dragged into abandoned houses with him and Mabel so that they could collect paranormal data.

The two of them sat in silence for a moment. Wirt’s hands were resting on his stomach.

“Are we going to tell them about her?” Wirt asked, looking over at Dipper. “I told her I would explain everything when we got here but I don’t know… I don’t really know how to explain it to her.

“Only if you want to, and if you want I can explain everything,” Dipper didn’t know how open Wirt’s parents were about these things.

“I mean. I never told my mom about the Unknown. I don’t think she would’ve believed me when I was younger. But I think I have to tell her now. Since we’re here. It could affect her too, right?”

“Hopefully not. You’re the only one she seems to want.”

“Yeah but it doesn’t mean she won’t try to get me through others,” Wirt frowned. He wasn’t wrong. Dipper knew that deities tended to get very extreme and the fact that they were dealing with Melinoë… She wasn’t known for being kind in any way.

“Do you know the hymn about her? Melinoë, that is,” Wirt asked.

“I think I read it once. But I don’t know it from the heart, do you?” Dipper raised his brows.

“I call upon Melinoe, saffron-cloaked nymph of the earth,  
whom revered Persephone bore by the mouth of the Kokytos river  
upon the sacred bed of Kronian Zeus.  
In the guise of Plouton Zeus and tricked Persephone and through wiley plots bedded her;  
a two-bodied specter sprang forth from Persephone's fury.  
This specter drives mortals to madness with her airy apparitions  
as she appears in weird shapes and strange forms,  
now plain to the eye, now shadowy, now shining in the darkness—  
all this in unnerving attacks in the gloom of night.  
O goddess, O queen of those below, I beseech you  
to banish the soul's frenzy to the ends of the earth,  
show to the initiates a kindly and holy face.”

Dipper smirked a little, “I’m impressed that you know that.”

“English majors memorize basically everything,” Wirt replied, rolling a bit. His head rested against the edge of Dipper’s thigh. Dipper couldn’t help but run his hands through Wirt’s hair. Yeah, okay, the two of them were definitely gay.

“Apparently,” Dipper twirled a few strands around his fingers.

“I took a class on Greek literature. Melinoë wasn’t seen as an evil thing by the Greeks. They feared her because they knew that her nature could leave them insane. But they respected her, and she wasn’t outright malevolent. Probably seen as the same level as like… Hecate or Hermes,” Wirt’s eyes closed.

“It’s been a while since the Greek gods have taken over anything. Maybe something pissed her off,” Dipper looked at the ceiling. There were old, faded, glowing stars on there.

“I still have to wonder why me, of all people, to direct all these things through?”

“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out though. I know Jean is looking through almost every book he has to help out and the three of us here are doing the same,” Dipper wasn’t sure if his words were reassuring to Wirt anymore. He could still try.

They didn’t get the chance to say anything else before someone was approaching the room. Greg popped his head in the door, Whispers was trailing behind him. She sat down next to Greg. Whispers was a skinny, too skinny from being in the shelter for so long, black dog that still looked like a puppy but was almost the size of a full grown labrador. She was definitely mixed breeds and stared at everyone with wide brown eyes. She dropped the two she was holding in her mouth down in Wirt’s doorway.

“Breakfast is ready in the kitchen,” he informed the two of them. Dipper made eye contact with Greg and Greg raised his eyebrows, looked at Wirt, then looked back at Dipper. Neither of them said anything.

Wirt sat up, “We’ll be right there.”

“Hurry or I’ll eat all of your bacon,” Greg grinned at Wirt. “All of it! Especially the crunchy ones,” he teased as he left.

“You better not!” Wirt shouted back, getting off of the bed. He didn’t bother to grab his crutches and instead started to just limp over to the kitchen, “Greg can and will follow through with his threat.”

That got Dipper moving. The two of them got to the kitchen where it smelled heavenly.

Wirt’s stepfather (and Greg’s father) wasn’t very tall. He was about average height with the same sort of stocky build that Greg had. His face wasn’t as sharply featured as Greg’s and his hair was a dirty blonde, he had dark blue eyes and the palest skin out of all of them. Which was saying something considering that Pacifica could step outside on a stormy day and get a sunburn if she wasn’t careful.

The similarities in Greg’s features and build were definitely there but Greg’s coloring was more akin to his moms. Wirt seemed to share the same trait, although he looked a bit more like their mother in the smaller details. Both of them, Dipper realized as he watched the family move about the kitchen, acted like their mother in the way that they moved and talked.

“Thank you for cooking. You really didn’t have to,” Dipper told Magan who brushed him off.

“It’s fine. I was awake anyway and I hardly get the chance to cook breakfast like this,” Magan said. “Besides, what’s a cold morning without a warm breakfast?”

“Fair enough,” Dipper shrugged as he begun on his second cup of coffee for that day.

The seven of them crowded around a small, round table. Whispers laid under the table, her head resting on Greg’s feet. “Whispers, don’t beg,” Greg scolded her but didn’t put any actual effort in it so Whispers just wagged her tail weakly and stayed where she was.

Dipper caught Mabel reaching down and sneaking her a piece of bacon.

They got a few minutes of eating without any conversation. Then Maria picked up her cup of coffee, staring at her eldest son over the rim. She shot her eyebrows up in a way that was definitely something Wirt inherited from her.

“So, you said you would explain everything when you got here,” Maria wasn’t asking a question. “What is it that you need to explain, Wirt. Don’t tell me you eloped without warning?” She teased him gently, a small smile on her face.

Greg snorted and Wirt slapped him on the shoulder. Wirt and Greg shared a look that Dipper couldn’t read.

Was that how people felt about him and Mabel?

  
“Wirt.” The mother tone was in Maria’s voice now. “What’s going on?”

“It’s sort of a long story?” Wirt snapped his attention to his mom. “Really long. I don’t know how to begin.”

“Well, um, Maria —” Maria’s eyes snapped to Dipper’s face and he fell silent. Right. Okay. So she was only going to listen to Wirt.

“Well, we have time,” Maria settled into her chair and then straight up gave Whispers bacon, not bothering to hide it. Magan gave her a look, “She needs to gain weight.” She defended herself.

“Do you remember when Greg and I fell into the pond when I was fifteen?” Wirt was starting from the very beginning, then.

“How could I ever forget?” Maria placed her hand on her chest at the memory.

“Greg can back me up on all of this but when we were down there it was for more than just 15 minutes. It was for several days, more than a week. We were in some sort of limbo place called the Unknown and we were lost, for a while,” Wirt made eye contact with Greg again who bumped their shoulders together.

“But that stuff can wait for later. It’s sort of the prelude. We think that because of what we went through that some sort of… target I guess was placed on our heads. And that target has led to me being the only one under it, and now I’m sort of being hunted by a Greek goddess,” Wirt explained, “Well. No. Not hunted. But definitely haunted by her.”

“Wirt, flaquito, that makes no sense,” his mother began. “I mean—”

“Mom. Please. I would rather it just be some mass hysteria that we’re all sharing,” Wirt gestured to him, Dipper, Mabel, and Pacifica. “But it’s not. I mean I’ve literally been attacked by her minions or whatever they’re called. It’s real, unfortunately,” Wirt finished. He paused, waiting for his mom to react.

No one said anything.

“So what do you have to do with this?” Maria’s attention was now on him. Dipper felt scrutinized by her gaze.

“Wirt called me in.”

“Greg insisted. We were just seeking answers, originally, about what we went through. But then we started to have weird dreams,” Wirt filled her in.

“Remember when I didn’t sleep for like a week?” Greg asked his parents, talking around the pancakes in his mouth.

“Greg, don’t speak with your mouth full,” the reprimand of his teenage son was weak, Magan was too interested in what was going on.

“Right. So, Wirt emailed me. And I was interested in what was going on so I came over here. Things sort of picked up from there, Mabel and Pacifica weren’t supposed to come in at all but the situation was too worrying and dangerous for me not to bring them in,” Dipper explained.

“And you can deal with this? You can deal with a goddess?” Maria looked like she was beginning to get a headache.

“We’ve fought some pretty nasty things before,” Mabel spoke up now. “When we were barely thirteen we managed to take down a pretty powerful dream entity,” she left out that said dream entity called upon them now to help with the situation. Even he didn’t want this goddess to win.

“So, you’re trustworthy, then?” Maria asked, her eyes flitting between Dipper and Mabel now.

“Mabel and Dipper are the best in their field. This stuff runs in their family. We’re going to do everything we can, and it’ll all turn out alright,” Pacifica chimed in. She was easily the best at smoothing people over into agreeing with them. Sometimes, that included bribery. “You won’t be harmed.”

“But Wirt has already been harmed,” Maria shot back.

“And we’ll prevent any other harm from coming on to him. Maria, we want his safety just as much as you do,” Pacifica told her, her face serious but her voice soft and gentle.

Maria seemed hesitant. She stared at Pacifica for a long while before looking at Dipper then at Wirt.

“I trust them, mom. Really, I do,” Wirt tried to smooth her over too.

“Okay,” Maria said, “Okay.” She sounded like she was giving up just a bit and it pained her. “But if anything happens in this house we are calling your grandmother so she can give you a blessing,” Maria pointed her fork at her son to make herself clear.

Wirt laughed, his nose scrunching up when he did. “Sounds good, mom.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i highkey imagine maria as my tia maria who is a brooklyn public middle school teacher who is now on the school board  
> she has like the a thick puerto rican and new york accent, shes a boss and so lovely in the best way


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i actually wrote this chapter a long while ago but the story has moved faster than expected so i had to edit it some but pls point out any inconsistencies bcs this is also not beta'd  
> also holy switching povs batman

To Maria, things were not actually okay. It was easy for her to say, “Sure, okay, just casually hunt down a goddess.” And brush it all off like it wasn’t a big deal. 

Truth be told, Maria was still figuring out how this all worked. She didn’t know how to respond to the situation with her oldest son. She believed in the supernatural, but this sort of thing was something that was too much for even her. For right now she sat back and observed. There wasn’t a move that she could make if she didn’t know what was going on at all. She watched the strangers that her son had brought into her home, watched how easily they laughed with both of her children. 

Maria didn’t hate the team that Wirt had brought in. Clearly, they were just trying to help. But she still couldn’t help but be wary around them. All three of them were friendly enough. Wirt seemed comfortable around Dipper the most, but he was just fine with Mabel and Pacifica too. Greg had been quick to accept all of them into his arms, but still. Still. Maria wondered if this was the right thing to do. She was concerned, not only for her son's safety but the validity all of this. And if it was all true, would she be able to do anything?   


How would she be able to just stand there and watch something so terrible and dreadful happen to her firstborn? Wirt had clearly already been hurt before, and Maria didn’t want any more pain to be brought onto him. 

She remembered when they had fallen into the lake. It was terrifying to get a call from Deputy Sanders, telling her that her boys had fallen in. They had been fine, they hadn’t even suffered from hypothermia. The hospital had kept them overnight just in case of anything but they were released the next day. Both of her sons had changed since that incident, and Maria had just chalked it up to going through a near-death experience.

Even now, she wasn’t able to forgive herself. She knew that both of them had struggled afterward. Wirt seemed to have placed all of the blame on himself, and Greg refused to swim all of the next few summers and it took him until he was thirteen before that confidence and security were back. Maria felt helpless, useless since she couldn’t fight either of their demons for them. Now it felt the same, now she didn’t even know what the demons were. And it turned out that she didn’t know what the demons were back then, either. 

It was a lot to take in. Maria hadn’t been sure what to answer with other than a maternal warning and an “Okay.”

Maria still wasn’t sure what to believe about it. She desperately wanted to believe it in all, but she couldn’t at the same time. She had grown up with superstitions, her grandparents were devout Catholics and her own mother was strongly superstitious. The superstitions from their island her family came from still stuck with her. But there was a certain amount she could handle unless she was given proof.

But she didn’t know what she would ask for as proof. 

Wasn’t their arrival proof enough? She wondered at the same time.

So, Maria sat. She sat at her dining room table, once everyone had retired and gone to bed. The house was cramped since they didn’t have a designated guest room, Greg giving up his room to Pacifica and Mabel and relegating himself to the den. 

She had been quiet when she made her tea, even more, quiet as she sat down. The door to the den was closed but she was still worried the light would bleed in through the cracks of the door so she sat in the darkness, trying to ensure that Greg would get a full nights rest.

The cup was warm in her hands, but she hadn’t made any moves to drink it. She stared into the darkness, trying to collect herself and her thoughts. Even where she was in the living room, Maria could hear Magan snoring loudly upstairs from their bedroom.

The stairs creaked and she lifted her head, turning towards the noise. 

Dipper came down the stairs. He jumped back when he first saw her before just staring. “You’re… you’re up late,” he said.

“So are you,” Maria replied. 

“Ha. Ha. Yeah, I guess we both are,” he rubbed his arm and Maria had to smile, taking a sip of her tea. “I was just going to get some water.”

“Cups should be in the cupboard just right of the sink,” Maria told him.

“Thanks,” Dipper mumbled, grabbing a cup and filling it with water. Maria thought he would go back upstairs to Wirt’s room but Dipper lingered. He looked at her, holding the cup of water.

“Is something wrong?” Maria asked, furrowing her brows and wondering if he was going to deliver some more untimely news. She didn’t know the man, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t be concerned.

“The situation. I’m sure you probably still have a lot of questions, or probably just, don’t believe any of us,” Dipper went right to it. Maria ran her finger along the rim of her cup.

“None of this makes sense. And I have to admit, I don’t really know what to do with all of… this,” Maria gestured vaguely with her hands to everything around her. “I mean, a goddess?” She had to laugh a little then, her voice was low and quiet in the dark. “But I can’t exactly… I don’t know,” she felt helpless and useless all at once. She hadn’t felt this way in so long and now it was so apparent just how much of a limitation was on her. There was always going to be some way she couldn’t help, couldn’t shield. 

Maria could see Dipper’s small frown in the dark. She watched as the young man took a seat next to her at the table. Neither of them said anything for a moment.

“When I was 12, going on 13, my sister and I had to battle with a dream entity,” Dipper told her. “Same dream entity that interacted with Wirt and Greg, actually, the cause of their weird dreams. When I made that connection I was concerned that we were going to have to fight him, or it, again. He’s called Bill Cipher, a pretty normal sounding name for something that turned a man’s face upside down. He had a personal vendetta against my family because of my great uncle, Grunkle, Ford. Didn’t help that even at 12 Mabel and I were able to beat him. It doesn’t mean that we didn’t have to struggle and fight for it, of course. He cast the town my Grunkle’s lived in into a state of Weirdness and let chaos reign.”

Maria sat silently, waiting for him to get to his point with the dawning horror that there were so many things in this world that went unseen that no one could protect their children from.

“We could have all died and somehow we didn’t. Mabel was trapped for a while, actually, in a dreamscape that he made for her. She and I had been fighting around that tie, and Bill took advantage of that,” Dipper shrugged his shoulders, tapping on his glass. “Anyway. My point here is that our parents had no idea of the situation until recently.”

“What’s the point in that?” Maria questioned, raising her brow. Dipper was thrown off by the clear relation between her and her son at that moment, Wirt had had to learn that expression from his mom.

“My true, real, point is that sometimes when you’re going against an all-powerful entity that seems unstoppable that there’s a good chance that you can stop it. And if Mabel and I were able to do that without the help of our parents, and just the help of our community, imagine how much easier it’s going to be for us to fight against her with you on our side,” Dipper told her.

“What can I do?” Maria asked she looked up to where she knew Wirt’s room was. “You had knowledge on your side back then, didn’t you? If there was already a personal vendetta. Here, we don’t know why she’s targetting my son. We have no history of this, no data collected from years of issues.”

Dipper pressed his lips into a tight frown, “We don’t know much, you’re right about that. But we’re going to figure it out. We’ll figure it all out.”

“I can’t leave my sons life in danger because of our own uncertainty. There are no guarantees in this situation,” her voice was still quiet, although her tone had become sharper.

“I know but —”

“But you’re trying your best. I understand. But at the same time, Dipper, understand that I am a  _ mother _ who before today had no idea that anything like this was even out there. And what am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to just roll over and wait until everything is settled? Sit patiently and just wait for something to drop out of the sky to help us?” There was venom she was unable to control in her words, “You seem just as lost as I am about this.”

Another stretch of silence fell between them. Maria glared down at her cup of tea. The dark was beginning to mess with her vision and she rubbed her eyes in an attempt to stop the disorienting images and to get herself under control. She took a deep breath, glad that she at least didn’t raise her voice at him. She couldn’t risk anyone else waking up.

“I know…” Dipper took a deep sigh, and Maria looked at him again. “I know my word isn’t enough in this. I know that I can’t make you a promise and expect you to believe me to see it through, that that’s a tall order with everything going on,” Dipper met her eyes in the dark. “But Maria, I will make sure Wirt’s safe. I’ll make sure nothing will happen to him.”

Maria held Dipper’s gaze. “If you don’t, it’ll be your head,” she told him after a moment before standing from her chair. “Goodnight, Dipper. Don’t stay up too late,” she instructed, grabbing her tea and going back upstairs. She could hear her husband snoring from the stairway and felt some of the tension release from her shoulders. The light in Greg’s room was out, and someone else was snoring in there. Wirt’s room light was still on and she paused.

Gently, she pushed opened the door. Wirt’s nose was buried in a book and he didn’t seem to notice her entering the room. She placed her cup down on his bedside drawer, the noise of which made him look up finally.

“Oh, mom. I thought you were Dipper,” Wirt told her honestly, tucking a bookmark in between the book’s pages before sliding it away from him. She sat down on his bed. 

“He’s downstairs,” she told him.

“Okay?” Wirt could hear a tone in her voice, he looked at her questioningly. “Do… is there something wrong?” He asked her, softly. 

“You haven’t been fully honest with me, have you?” She asked him. “How much more have you been hiding from me?” 

“I— not a lot. And it’s not like I wanted to hide these things from you. Mom, you couldn’t just expect Greg and me to tell you the truth and for you to just believe us,” he told her.

“What happened?” 

“It’s not really important, anymore.”

“Clearly it is, Wirt. Because you’ve both been hiding this from me and your dad for years! You could’ve told us,” she frowned at her son.

“No, we couldn’t have, mom! There was no way in the world that you would’ve believed us. You wouldn’t have believed a single word that I said and then I would’ve ended up in even more therapy and Greg would’ve been stuck like me,” his voice got whiny at the end, and he rubbed his throat. He tried to ease the anger out of his tone, tried to erase the frustration that hid there and balled up, making it harder for him to speak.

“Stuck like you?” Maria said it softly, any anger that Wirt had seen on her face before was gone. “What do you mean by that?” She asked him gently.

“Miserable, constantly. Struggling to just… I don’t know, survive, I guess. Left behind. Replaced, whatever you want to call teen angst,” Wirt waved his hand.

“Wirt, baby. You know nothing you went through, nothing you’ve struggled with is just teen angst,” his mom grabbed his hand gently, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb.

“No. No. I know,” he took a deep breath. “But Greg would’ve been a screw-up. And don’t— don’t say I wasn’t. I didn’t even try to save him back then mom. It was my fault we even ended up in the pond, I was the worst older brother imaginable,” Wirt let out a short laugh. “I was even worse when we were…”

“You were…?” His mom questioned. “Wirt, please give me the full story. I’ll listen.” Her eyes were as gentle as her hand in his.

Wirt was suddenly struck with the realization that his mother was aging. Her hair was still dark, and thick, but there were undeniable grey strands among the dark brown, almost black strands. There were crows feet by her eyes now, her smile lines were beginning to be more noticeable. She scooted up on the bed and leaned her head on his shoulder. Wirt remembered when he was the shorter one when he was the one who had to curl around her. He used to think she was the second tallest person in the world, second only to his father.

Maria stayed there, leaning and waiting. Wirt felt the pressure build up in his throat. 

“Tell me the prelude. Tell me about the Unknown,” his mom gave his hand another small squeeze, grounding him back into focus.

Wirt started at the beginning.

He told her about being lost in the woods. About the woodsman, about the dog and being so mad at Greg for the candy. He told her about when they met Beatrice, told her about Pottsfield, told her about the pumpkins and the skeletons. Wirt didn’t skip any detail, he told her of all their adventures. 

His mom held onto his hand tightly when he told her about stealing a horse. She chided him gently for the whole incident in the school with Langtree, saying that his stubbornness will kill him one day. Her grip became even stronger when Wirt described how it got cold. He described how he had been a truly awful brother. The wind had been frosty and all he had done was send Greg away. The snow had been so white, but the edelwood trees had been so dark in comparison. Wirt had barely been able to see where he was going in the storm. Waking up in Beatrice’s “home” had been incredibly disorienting. 

For a moment, Wirt had to pause. He needed to just sit and think about what he had done.

What would he have done, if Greg hadn’t come back? Wirt would’ve never forgiven himself if he let Greg die. He didn’t think he would’ve been worthy of forgiveness.

But he cleared his throat and tried to continue with the story.

Wirt didn’t look at his mom. He wanted to bury himself underneath his covers. He wanted to hide away as he used to all those years ago, never face her or any of his shames.

Wirt knew that his mom didn’t deserve that. That she deserved the whole truth.

So, Wirt told her about Greg eating leaves, which his mom laughed at with a tremor in her voice. He told her about the Beast, sparing no detail in the horrific faces he saw along his body. Wirt explained the lantern to her, explained the lies that Beast was telling to the Woodsman and the lies he had begun to feed to Greg.

When he was done, the two of them sat in silence.

Wirt’s eyes were beginning to burn and his hands were shaking. Wirt quickly wiped his tears away before they could fall. “I’m sorry,” he apologized quietly.

“Wirt?”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t a good brother to Greg and you could have lost him. And now I somehow managed to attract the goddess of fear,” Wirt laughed, it was bitter. He tipped his head back, letting it hit the headboard with a soft ‘thunk’. The low, dull pain grounded him just the slightest.

“Oh. Wirt…”

“It was my fault mom. This entire thing is just my fault,” Wirt covered his eyes with his hand. “Maybe if I had just taken him to go frog hunting in the first. If I hadn’t been so self-absorbed. If I hadn’t just stuck and stayed so fucking sad all the time,” his voice cracked as he spoke. “I’m sad so much still. I’m sad almost every day and when I’m not sad, I’m angry, or paranoid. Or I just feel… confused, numb. I don’t know.”

“Have you been going to therapy?” His mom asked softly.

“I didn’t find the point in it, I guess. I got tired of therapy. I got tired of trying and then all of a sudden Greg tells me to email Dipper and then things begin happening and I’m scared I wasted my life, that I wasted all of my time just being sad and miserable to be around. I turned into  _ dad _ ,” Wirt’s voice finally lost it at the end. He tried to clean his face as if he could hide any of his feelings from his mom.

“Wirt,  _ mi vida _ ,” his mom drew him into her arms and Wirt lost any control he had.

His mom was stroking his hair gently, whispering comforting things into his ear. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. The two of them sat like that. He trembled like a leaf in the wind in his arms. She was strong and solid against him. 

 

“I might die,” he said it into her lap, sniffling loudly. “Mom, I might die,” the fear trembled his voice and his mom gripped onto him a bit tighter now. 

“You’re not going to die. Not on my watch. Not on anyone’s watch,” his mom promised to him and for the first time, he believed it.

Wirt felt empty. He could feel a headache coming on from his crying. He still cried though, unable to stop himself or the tears from freely flying. “Mom, she wants to use me as a _gateway_. How do we fight against that?” His voice unintentionally squeaked at the end.

“We’ll figure it out. We’re a strong family, we always get we what need to be done, done.” His mother rubbed his back. Maria didn't believe herself, but what else was there for her to say?

Time blurred and Wirt had no idea how long they laid there like that. Eventually, his mom let out a loud yawn and Wirt shuffled his way out of her lap. He rubbed his face again. “You should go to bed, mom,” he told her. His voice was wrecked by then, rough from crying and anxiety. 

“Are you sure? I can stay up with you?” His mom offered, gently rubbing his cheek.

“No. I’ll be fine. Get some sleep, you have work in the morning,” Wirt gave her a small smile.

His mom smiled back, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “If you need anything, and I mean  _ anything _ , please wake me up.”

“I will.”

“Good,” his mom gave him a confident nod. “Goodnight,  _ flaquito _ ,” his mom pinched his side. Wirt jumped, swatting at her hands.

“Goodnight, mom,” he replied. “Love you.”

“I love you more,” she told him and he knew that she meant it. His mom left the room, making sure to take her (now cold) cup of tea with her.

Wirt sat there in his bed for a while before feeling restless. He got up carefully, using his drawer next to his bed to pull him up.

Dipper entered the room as he was leaving. 

“Where are you going?” Dipper asked, poorly concealing any concern he had in his voice.

“To brush my teeth. And wash my face,” Wirt told him, which was true. 

“Okay,” Dipper was going to sit on any questions until Wirt got back.

Wirt shambled to the bathroom. He flicked on the light and winced at the brightness, the bathroom light more intense than the lamp in his bedroom. Wirt dug through the medicine cabinet, finding some pain relievers and swallowing them with a handful of water.

His face was puffy and red from crying. His eyes looked as sore as they felt and his nose resembled someone who had a cold. He splashed some cold water on his face, trying to solve some of the redness he had before brushing his teeth. When he was finished, he went back to his bedroom.

Dipper was already in bed, taking up the spot next to the wall. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said.

“It’s fine,” Wirt crawled into bed with him. The two of them sat there.

“Are you okay?” Dipper asked. “You’ve been crying, and your mom, when we were downstairs, she sounded rough.”

“Oh,” Wirt felt a heavy pang of guilt in his chest. He hadn’t meant to make his mom upset. “I’ll be okay. I think, at some point. Right now everything is just…” he was at a loss for words. “I’m a ship at sea with the winds crashing around me, but the mariner knows that all storms will calm eventually.” Bad poetic phrases was always a good coping mechanism for Wirt.

“It’ll get better,” Dipper touched his shoulder, his hand gentle in touch. “We’re not going to give up.”

“I know.” And Wirt did no that. Still, his anxieties wouldn’t rest until Melinoe herself came out from the ground and stole his heart for his own.

Wirt leaned into Dipper, snuggling into him. Dipper stiffened at first before accepting the snuggles. The two of them laid there for a moment like that. “Do you want to turn off the light?” Dipper asked, his voice quiet and low.

“Yeah,” Wirt moved from his position and leaned over, shutting off the lamp before he laid back down in the same spot. Dipper shifted, making sure that both of them were comfortable.   
  


_ “Hello,”  _ the voice was wispy, in his ear.

“Hello?” Wirt echoed back. He knew the situation by now, didn’t he? He looked around. The trees were dark and looming, the sky a hue of purple with the moon big, bright, and tinted orange. Clouds moved in front of it, obscuring it from his view.

“ _ Hello.” “Hello.” “Hello.”  _

_ Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hellohellohellohellohellohelllohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohELLHELLOHELLOHELLOHELLO  _

**_HELLO WIRT_ **

The voice made him jump. He looked around. “Where are you?” He shouted, angry.

She laughed at him, sounding positively giddy.

_ “Are you lost?”  _ The voice came from right next to his ear and he slapped his ear. The hair on the back of his neck had stood up from the ghostly breath.

“What do you want!?” Wirt yelled, shouting at the sky.

_ “What do I want?” What do I want _

_ W h a t d o I w a n t _

The voice was coming from all around him. It was the same voice yet it spoke over itself, sounding like a crowd of people listening to a man make his final speech before being put to death. It whispered and murmured back with the wind, questioned and repeated what he said in an accusing tone. A ghostly hand touched his face and forced him to look. A figure was there, all black and orange eyes glowing. He jumped back.

Wirt’s back ran into someone else. Another figure, similar in color and sizing. The eyes bore into him and he realized with horror that they were moving in on him. Wirt whipped his head around, trying to find an escape only to realize that he was surrounded by ghostly apparitions. They moved closer to him, circling him.

**_“What do I want?”_ ** The voice asked, loud, singular, commanding.

_ Silly _

_ Silly _

_ So silly _

_ There was once a silly boy named Wirt _

_ Silly Wirt _

_ Did he ever know? _

_ How did he not know? _

_ We thought you were told! _

_ “Silly.”  _ Someone laughed at him.

_ “How silly!” _

_ “Silly.” _

_ Foolish. Idiotic. _

_ “Silly.” _

_ Stupid. Useless. _

_ “Silly, silly, Wirt.” _

_ “What do I want?” _

Silly.

I want a door. I want a vessel. I want  _ you _ . 

The voice came from inside of his own head, his own thoughts. 

_ “Soon. Soon. Soon.”  _

_ Soon. Soon. Soon. Soon. _

He was pushed down into the dirt. Something gripped tightly onto him, he felt nails dig into the skin on his back. Hands had come up from the earth itself. Whispers of soon chanted in his ear. He tried to kick, struggling to break free but the hands increased their grip.

“Wait. Wait. Stop! Stop!” The dirt was cold and soft.

Something grabbed his kicking legs. Shadowy figures with orange glowing eyes stared at him, watching as he was pulled under, kicking and screaming.

  
  


Wirt woke up to the sprinklers in his face. His mouth tasted of dirt, and his hands were numb and cold to the point where it was painful.  The sprinklers struck him with water and he stayed where he was. He was kneeling down on the wet ground, his body pointed in the direction of the wood behind his home.

Someone gently pulled him up from the ground. “What are you doing?” With concern in her voice, Mabel helped him up by his shoulders before letting him rest his body weight onto her, leading him inside.  

Dipper woke up alone. His hand stretched out to seek warmth from where Wirt laid. It took his brain a moment to realize that he was alone and that Wirt, was in fact, not next to him. He got up after he realized this, at least, and began to look around for him, wondering where he could have gone. It was still early. The sun was just barely rising.

He reached the living room, stopping in his tracks. Wirt was very wet, covered in a blanket and a towel on the top of his head. Mabel was kneeling in front of him, fiddling with his hands. 

“What happened?” He asked quietly, going over. 

“I don’t know. I just found him in the backyard,” Mabel answered, not explaining why she was up at this hour.

“I was… sleepwalking,” Wirt furrowed his brows.

“Sleep digging too,” Mabel lifted one of Wirt’s hands up. His fingernails were muddy and blood, his fingers irritated from the cold and the dirt.

“I had another dream. She spoke to me, said she needed me and that she needed a door,” Wirt’s voice was low and monotone, he stared off into the distance.

“Bill said she was going to use you to come to our dimension,” Dipper kneeled next to Mabel, who threw him a worried glance.

“She is. He was right about that. But she wants a vessel,” Wirt pulled his hands away from Mabel’s slowly. “And if she intends on using me as a door, I think it’s safe to assume I’m going to be her ride.”

“Well, Bill —”

“Bill said that she was going to use me as a gateway. But he mentioned nothing about me being her personal puppet,” Wirt picked at his nails despite how raw his fingers had become.

“If she’s communicating to you directly now,” Mabel worried her lower lip between her teeth.

“I didn’t see her. Just heard her voice. But it sounded like it was in me like she’s already there,” Wirt pulled at the necklace around his neck, running his fingers along the frog charm there.

“She’s not,” Dipper told him. “And she won’t be.”

“You keep saying that but it doesn’t feel like that anymore. I’m sleepwalking now,” Wirt frowned at Dipper.

“We’ll lay down more protections,” Dipper said, “We’ll do more.”

“What more can we do?” Wirt asked him. “What?” He directed it at Mabel now.

Mabel sat back on her heels, placed her hands on Wirt’s knees. “We can draw her out. Send her back to sleep sooner.”

“Mabel, we’re not ready to fight her.”

“Well she’s trying to start a fight, so why not give her one?” Mabel asked.

“I want to start a fight,” Wirt stated. Both he and Mabel stared at Dipper. 

“Before we fight anything, we need a plan. And at least a couple of days of preparation,” Dipper told them.

“I’ll go make some coffee,” Mabel stood up. “What time is your family going to be awake?” 

“Mom and Magan should’ve left already. Greg has school at 7:30 but he sleeps like the dead,” Wirt told her. “Why?”

“Just needed to make sure I wouldn’t wake anyone but Pacifica up,” Mabel hummed under her breath as she went into the kitchen.

Dipper looked at Wirt when she was gone, staring up at him from where he still was on the floor.

“Are you sure that you want to fight her?” He asked.

“What other choice do I have?” 

“I mean, so soon,” Dipper explained.

“The sooner I can actually sleep again, the better it’ll be for all of us,” Wirt replied, his resolve strong.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll go make a call. Jean should have something to help us out now, and if he doesn’t he’ll know where to find someone or something,” Dipper stood up. Wirt grabbed his wrist for a moment. 

“Yeah?” Dipper asked, looking down at him. Wirt didn’t remove his hold on his wrist and neither of them said anything for a moment, and Wirt’s eyes flicked towards Dipper’s mouth.

Wirt opened his mouth then shut it, sitting silent and waiting for a moment longer.

“Can you help me get to the room so I can change?” Wirt asked. “My clothes are wet.”

Dipper blinked. “Oh. Um. Yeah, okay,” he helped Wirt stand before helping him up to his room. Dipper’s wrist was warm where Wirt had held it.


	12. Twelve

Wirt changed into the warmest sweatshirt he had, one from senior year of marching band that just barely fitted him still, and sweatpants that Greg had stolen from him and that he had stolen back. Dipper hadn't left the room, not like Wirt had asked him to leave. A part of Wirt was worried he wouldn't be able to get pants on over his cast, anyway.

Dipper was pacing back and forth. The sun was beginning to shine through your bedroom windows, causing his hair to look golden. Wirt didn’t think that he should focus on Dipper’s hair but doing so made his hands stop shaking for a moment. 

“She probably sent a high-level mare last night, one that’s strong enough to make you actually move. She’s already been sending you strong ones, considering the last physical attack, but if this one managed to get into your head...” Dipper stopped moving and looked at him. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before,” he looked annoyed, before running his fingers through his hair, pushing his bangs out of the way. He began to mumble under his breath, not loud enough for Wirt to really hear him.

“God you’ve probably had the old hag riding you all night and we didn’t even notice,” Dipper held his hair there for a moment, tipping his head back and letting out a deep sigh that seemed to come from the very core of his being. “We can try a pentagram, maybe some mistletoe for good measure, the shoe thing never works. Do you know where to get bricks?” he asked. 

Wirt couldn’t focus on the question.

“You have a birthmark?” Wirt interrupted whatever thought Dipper was going into. Wait. That was a dumb way to phrase that, “I mean. Your birthmark is on your forehead?”

Snapped out of his thoughts, Dipper looked at him. His hand came down and so did his hair, his bangs covering up his forehead again. Meaning that Wirt couldn’t see the birthmark that was surrounded by freckles.

“It’s where the nickname Dipper comes from,” he told Wirt.

“That makes sense,” Wirt replied. “Can I see it?” 

“Right now?” Dipper asked, startled.

“If it’s okay,” Wirt didn’t prod much, but he did look at Dipper with some expectancy.

“I mean, right now we have to focus more on the mares and how your house doesn’t have any iron, Pacifica already checked when we got here, so we’re going to have to do more than just your necklace although that does seem to be helping,” Dipper said everything in one breath.

“We’ll get to that,” Wirt said.

“Wirt—”

Wirt knew that just a moment ago he had been determined, been ready to face the supernatural world. But the adrenaline he had was fading. And his hands were still shaking. “Can I look?” he asked again, “I just want to… pretend, I guess.” 

Dipper looked at him. Really looked at him. Finally, he stopped pacing and sat beside Wirt, facing him. He lifted his bangs out of the way of the mark on his forehead. Wirt reached up carefully pressed his fingertips against each little individual mark, then he ran his hands through Dipper's hair. They stopped shaking so much and Dipper leaned into his hands, almost as needy for the contact as Wirt was. His fingers were still raw from digging in the dirt, the bite reminding him of what was to come and what was already there.

The two of them didn't say anything. Dipper leaned onto Wirt and his shoulders felt less tense as he stole Wirt's body heat. Wirt shifted and the two of them sat there together, Dipper half laying with Wirt against the wall, the morning sun still lighting the room.

A knock on the door broke the silence, and Greg poked his head into the room. With the door now open, Wirt could smell the coffee clearly from the kitchen. Greg held a tumbler in his hands, it was a Starbucks one that he had grabbed on his last band trip to Florida. There was a mix of two corporations on it, Starbucks and Disney both staking their claim on the cup. 

“I wanted to say bye before I left for school,” Greg walked into the room. He didn't blink at the closeness of Wirt and Dipper. “And make sure you were okay,” his little brother looked at him, concerned.

“I'm okay,” at least, at this moment, Wirt was. 

Greg looked at him and then nodded. “If you say so. There's coffee downstairs, by the way.”

“Thanks, Greg,” Dipper had cozied up to Wirt more. 

“Have a good day at school,” Wirt told him, with a fond smile. Greg smiled brightly at him, the concern was still there but it was being outshined right then.

“I'll try.”

“And drive safe,” Wirt reminded him as Greg moved to leave the room.

“I'll try. Bye, Wirt! Bye, Dipper!” Greg left the room.

“I mean it, Greg! Don't speed!” Wirt yelled after him.

Somewhere at the front of the house, Wirt heard Greg reply with a, “Love you too, brother o’ mine!” before he hears the front door open and close.

The spell of comfort and warmth lasted for a moment longer before Dipper was moving, sitting up. “Let's go get some coffee, and hit the books.” He stood up from the bed and offered Wirt his hand. Wirt took it, letting himself be pulled up before they went to the kitchen.  
  


Mabel and Pacifica had already begun to make themselves comfortable with research. Pacifica was scanning through one of the journals, an older one it seemed, given how worn town the cover was. Her lips moved as she read. 

“What are you looking for?” Dipper asked her.

“A way to contact Persephone. Or Hades. Just someone who can give her a smackdown. Last resort is waking up one of her parents to put her back to sleep,” Pacifica looked at him.

“I know that but what inscription?” Dipper rolled his eyes, settling next to her. “If you’re going to try and summon them from sleep you should try Journal 2.”

“I already looked there. It’s gone,” Pacifica replied.

“Gone?”

“Yep!” Mabel shifted, making room on the table for Wirt to prop his leg up. “I can’t find anything in Journal 3, either.” She frowned, “Paz is checking 1.”

“If all of our inscriptions on the Gods are gone then we’re going to have to contact Candy, she’s the one with Ford’s journals right now. Plus letting her and Grenda know what’s going to happen is a good idea, maybe Wendy too? I don’t know what she’s doing right now though, since last I checked she was working with the weres in Gravity Falls,” Dipper frowned.

“Oooh! I haven’t talked to Candy and Grenda this entire trip I’ve been so busy!” Mabel grinned, ear to ear. Her entire body buzzed with excitement, “Even if we don’t need them right now, we should call them on! Candy knows, like, everything.”

“Any luck, Pacifica?” Mabel asked her wife, looking over her shoulder. The grin was still on her face.

“No,” Pacifica sighed, annoyed. “All those pages are blank.”

“Mabel can y—” Dipper began.

Mabel had already begun to call up Candy and Grenda. Wirt watched.

“Who are Candy and Grenda?” Wirt asked, guessing that whoever they were, they were extremely important and close to Mabel.

“Middles school best friends she met in Gravity Falls,” Pacifica answered. 

Mabel went off to the side of the living room, standing near the television as she spoke excitedly with Candy on the other line. Between their rushed dialogue of excitement and gossip, Mabel managed to get everything that they needed in there.

“Okay! Okay! Thank you very much, Candy!” No. I haven’t heard of that? Did they really?” Mabel chatted excitedly, pacing back and forth as she spoke. “We’ll definitely do that then,” Mabel gave them a thumbs-up. “I’ll talk to you later! Love you,” Mabel hung up the phone before the conversation could go on any longer.

“What did she say?” Dipper asked.

“We’re going to have to find a book. Candy says that it should’ve popped up when Melinoe started to wake up,” Mabel sat back down on the couch. “It’s a book from her dimension, she said it should hold something in there that we can use. She’s not sure what though since no one has ever actually gotten the book,” Mabel admitted.

“How are we supposed to get it?” Wirt asked.

“We’ll have to locate it first,” Mabel played with the earring in her right ear. 

“I can do that. Did Grenda or Candy tell you anything we can use to track it down?” Pacifica asked. 

“Grenda piped in and said that it should be in Massachusetts, but they didn’t give me any actual hints. I guess you’re just going to have to focus on the feeling of Melinoe or something,” Mabel bit her lower lip.

Pacifica let out a sigh, getting up before going to find something. “Wirt, do you have a map?” He heard her calling.

“Uh. Check my stepdads study?” Wirt called back. Pacifica walked over to it, and even from the living room, he could hear her searching for it. He looked over at Mabel. “What is she going to do?”

“She’s going to search,” Mabel stated as if that explained things. “Pacifica sort of dabbles in divinity,” she continued, “Usually we don’t really have to do much with it. She might give us a reading or two of one of us is out there but we don’t really have to search like this.”

Wirt refrained from asking another question. He figured that he was going to see what was going to happen anyway. Pacifica came back, with a map that was usually pinned up in his stepdads office. Pacifica sat down on the couch, clearing space on the coffee table with Mabel and Dipper’s help. She laid the map out, pressing it down and making sure that there were no major folds. There was a small, purple bag that she rummaged through that Wirt had never seen open before. She pulled out a pendulum and patted the spot on the couch next to her.

“I need you to help me channel where it is,” Pacifica told him, offering her hand up to him. “You’re the one here who’s the most closely associated with her.”

Wirt placed his hand in hers. “Do I have to do anything?”

“Just sit here, and concentrate,” Pacifica instructed. She straightened out the pendulum, holding it over the map. 

Her eyes closed and Wirt followed suit, just sitting there and holding her hand. Pacifica wasn’t holding tightly onto him at all but he could feel a sort of tug from her. Wirt opened up one eye. In her hand, the pendulum was swinging a bit wildly. Pacifica wasn’t moving at all. She was frozen, the only thing that was moving was her chest and every now and then her eyelids would flutter. 

Wirt closed his eyes again and started to focus even more. 

A few seconds passed. And then Pacifica spoke, “There.”

Wirt opened his eyes for the second time. The pendulum was pointing straight to the side, the tip of it pressed against the map. Pacifica let go of it and the pendulum straightened itself out, staying right there on the map. They all looked over. 

“That’s off of the MassPike,” Wirt pointed. 

“Well, it’s pointing straight into that town. So I guess that’s where we’re going next,” Dipper looked at them. 

“That’s like a 45-minute drive from here, without traffic,” Wirt was still staring at the map. “I’ve passed a few times on field trips and stuff like that. There’s nothing there. It’s a ghost town. Sometimes high schoolers go there to get scared, or drunk. Or both. Sara dragged us there a few times on Halloween, or full moons, or really whenever she thought that we needed to be scared shitless.” 

“No wonder the book is hiding out there,” Pacifica mumbled. 

“We’ll go find it then,” Dipper looked over at Wirt. “You know how to get there, right? Without directions.”

“I remember how to, but I don't really know where to go. We would usually just go to this farmhouse that was there,” Wirt glanced up from the map, meeting Dipper’s eyes.

“I don’t think you guys are going to have to search for it,” Pacifica touched Wirt’s arm, bringing his attention back onto the map. Where the pendulum had landed, there was a small dot. The map was creating its own roads, a black blotch showing up where the pendulum had landed. “Looks like you have directions now.”

Dipper stared at the map. “That wasn’t her, was it?” He looked at Wirt.

“We would know if it was her.”

“Whoever just did that just threw us a bone. Or they could be setting us up for a trap. Either way, we still need to go there,” Dipper rubbed the back of his neck.

“I can drive,” Wirt stood up.

“Are you sure you want to go? Maybe you should stay home and rest a bit more,” Dipper touched his elbow gently. “Mabel and I can survive on our own. Have been for years.”

Mabel gave Dipper a small fist bump, “Yep! You should stay here with Pacifica and just relax a bit. You deserve it,” Mabel nodded in agreement to her twin. 

Logically, Wirt knew that it was probably a good idea for him to stay there and rest. To just sleep for a day and not worry too much about what was happening outside of the house. But he shook his head, “No. I need to go with you.” Wirt needed to see it through, needed to be there for every part of this fight. 

The twins met each other's eyes, having another conversation where only the two of them could understand it. “Fine,” Mabel eventually spoke up, agreeing. “But you have to stay in the car and be ready to drive off in case of anything. You’ll stay with Pacifica in case of anything.”

“That’s fine with me,” Wirt was just glad that they were allowing him to go with them.

They made sure that they had everything that they needed before heading out. They took Wirt’s car, making sure that the house was underneath protection before they left. 

“Don’t want any fae to get in while we’re out and drive Whispers crazy,” Mabel told him, sliding into the back seat next to Pacifica once she was finished. 

Wirt started off in the direction of the ghost town. Dipper followed along with the map, leading him once they got closer to it. Eventually, they reached a broken down building. It was falling apart, but the signs that dictated it a library were still there.

“How long ago did this town become like this?” Mabel asked, her face pressed against the car window as she stared at the remnants of what would’ve been a cute, small, New England town. 

“Sometime back in the early 70’s I think? It used to be a farming town but then there was just a string of murders. Everyone left soon after that, some people say that the townspeople just disappeared without a trace, eaten or killed by whatever had taken them. I think they just moved out,” Wirt explained. It still made him uncomfortable to be there. There was something deeply wrong with it.

“The veil is pretty thin here,” Dipper commented, “Easy to slip between the dimensions.”

“Thin veil or not, we have to go and find this book,” Pacifica was unbuckling her set belt, getting out of the car. The twins followed after her, Dipper lingering a moment as Mabel and Pacifica made their way over to the library. 

Dipper worried his bottom lip between his teeth, “Leave the car running. We shouldn’t be too long.”

“Be safe in there,” Wirt grabbed his hand, leaning across the passenger side to do so. Dipper nodded, letting his hand slip from Wirt's after a moment.

“I’ll try.” He gave Wirt a very small smile before closing the passenger door and leaving Wirt alone in the car, heading into the old library with Mabel and Pacifica.

The library was surprisingly clean on the inside. It looked like it had been copied straight from a photo of a library in the ‘70s, with Sesame Street posters covering the walls, posters with actors who weren’t famous anymore, or kids shows that their parents must have grown up with. The chairs near the encyclopedia section were an old, faded orange. The carpet sunk as they walked across it, and the entire placed smelled of mildew and old books.

“Let’s just find what we’re looking for, and get out of here,” the lights in the library didn’t work anymore, so Dipper turned on a flashlight.  He shone it across the shelves, trying to see, or feel, anything that was out of the ordinary. 

The three of them split up. Dipper looked carefully around the library, careful where he stepped. He didn’t know how strongly this placed had been built, and there was so much water damage everywhere he was worried that the floor would come crashing beneath his feet. He got onto his knees, looking for anything.

Dipper heard something moving behind him. He smelled sulfur and he turned around, slowly. His flashlight shine right through the woman that stood there. She looked like a stereotypical mean librarian, reshelving books. Dipper stood up slowly.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” It wouldn’t hurt for him to try.

The librarian turned around to face him slowly. She put her fingers up to her lips, “Shhhhh.”

“Oh, um, I’m sorry. But I’m trying to find a book and I was wondering if you could help me?” Dipper lowered his voice. The smell of sulfur got stronger. 

The librarian blinked at him and then turned away before disappearing. Dipper frowned. He guessed it wasn’t an intelligent haunting. The smell of sulfur was strong, and it was beginning to bother his nose. Maybe, he thought to himself, the book would be where the sulfur was coming from.

It was eerily quiet in the library. He had gotten used to hearing the creaks of Mabel and Pacifica walking around but Dipper realized that he couldn’t hear them anymore.  
  


Mabel had gone up the stairs. There was definitely a big danger there but she needed to check the upstairs area. Aside from the occasional rat, or a bug flying around, Mabel didn’t find anything interesting up there. 

The upper floor of the library was as large as the one below it, aside from the chunk in the middle of the walkway that was taken out for the stairs. She searched further into the floor, careful where she steps since she didn’t feel like falling from the ceiling that day. Even as she got further in, she still found nothing interesting to note. 

And then she smelled sulfur and brimstone.   
It was subtle at first, just enough to make her wonder if there was something that had rotten up there. But it became stronger, louder. More offensive to her nose than any smell of it before. 

Mabel shone her flashlight across her body, “Whatever is here, I demand that you show yourself!” Mabel called out to it, stepping back carefully. She reached down into her pocket, putting on her iron knuckles.

She kept herself guarded, waiting with bated breath.

Pacifica screamed. Or at least, Mabel had thought it was Pacifica.

The scream sent her brain on red alert, she stood up straight. “Pacifica!? Paz!?” Mabel yelled out to her. Another scream, coming from below her. “Pacifica! I’m coming for you!” Mabel yelled down to her wife, heading to the stairs and forging the safety that she had kept in mind before. 

It was a miracle that nothing happened, even when she stopped suddenly on the stairs because she could hear a yell from outside. “Dipper?” She asked herself, it was getting warmer in the library and the smell had gotten stronger. Another shout from outside and Mabel recognized her twins shout of distress clearly now.

“Dipper! Hold on!” Mabel needed to find Pacifica first, she would find Pacifica and then she would find her brother.

 

Pacifica had managed to get down into the old archives of the library. The basement was cool and wet. She scanned through it, trying to see anything that caught her attention. There wasn’t any book there that had given off the correct vibes. Pacifica was wondering if they had been led to the wrong place if they had actually been tricked.

Her flashlight caught onto something. An old projector was sitting in the room and Pacifica wondered what it was doing down there, rather than upstairs where she had seen a screen. Pacifica brushed it off, figuring that it was some weird organization thing that never got fixed.

She continued to look around the basement, trying to get the maintenance closet open with a bobby pin she had in her pocket, holding her flashlight in her mouth as she did.

Something clicked behind her.

Pacifica paused what she was doing.

Another click this time.

She began to smell brimstone and sulfur, a nasty smell that made her features curl up in disgust. Pacifica stood up slowly, proceeding with caution as she turned around. The old projector had turned on. Pacifica walked up to it, slowly, carefully. She rubbed a charm in her hand, turning it over and over again as she whispered underneath her breath. 

The projector was flipping through old newspaper clippings, it seemed. Every now and then, a photo was thrown in there. They were dated from the early ‘70s and were moving to fast for Pacifica to actually read anything other than the headlines. One after another it described murder, someone disappearing, the projector flipping through the bloodshed of the past. And then it went on past the ‘70s to the ‘60s, the ‘50s, the ‘30s, even going down to when the town had been founded in the 1700s.

The projections were changing at a higher frequency now. Moving faster and faster until Pacifica couldn’t even read the headlines. Her breath caught in her chest as she was unable to look away.

And then it stopped. It froze on an article about a traveling reverend who went off, murdering his family. The old-timey photo of the reverend showed a man with a great long beard and hair, he looked like someone who folk stories were told about. He held something underneath his arm. A dark black book, and even from the picture Pacifica could tell that whatever was written on it wasn’t Latin or any of the other romance languages.

Pacifica stood there, staring at it, trying to take in the article.

Something dropped behind her and she turned around. The Reverend stood there, his body covered in something that was darker than black, it clung to him and radiated heat. The smell of sulfur and brimstone overloaded Pacifica’s senses. 

She didn’t jump back, trying not to show fear even as the Reverend began to shamble towards her. HIs neck was broken, crooked from when he had been hung at the gallows. His open, glassy, eyes weren’t looking at her, instead, they stayed focus on the projector behind her.

Pacifica prepared herself for a fight, for a confrontation when a loud, high pitched scream alerted her senses. Mabel’s scream rung even down in the basement and the Reverend stopped moving, slowly turning in the direction of the scream.

“Mabel.” 

Pacifica sprinted towards the stairs, passing the Reverend who didn’t make a grab for her as she ran up the stairs. “Mabel!” Pacifica called out her name, looking around once she emerged from the basement. The smell of the sulfur was stronger there, and now Pacifica could smell something along with it, tar.  
  


Sitting in the car was the most boring job that you could give someone, Wirt felt. But he sat in the car and stayed there. 

He stared at the dashboard, watching as the time on the radio slowly turned, the minutes beginning to pass by.

He leaned his head against the steering wheel as he waited. He closed his eyes for a moment and just let himself feel. The whole town felt wrong. He remembered when he used too there with Sara and the rest. They used to go to the end of the town, where the farm buildings still stood. There was an old farmhouse that they (local teenagers and adults) called “Slaughter Farm” there was still there to this day.   
The farmhouse was a filthy white, in Wirt’s memory. It looked similar to the library where it had been touched up in years. Wirt could remember how it felt to step into that house like he had confronted the Beast in the Unknown. Like he had pissed off something he shouldn’t have. 

Wirt lifted his head from the steering wheel. The wind outside the car had begun to pick up and he looked straight at the library. He looked into a window and jumped a bit. Dipper was pressed against an upstairs the window, yelling something at Wirt that he couldn’t here. He stared at him, barely able to make out his name and the word ‘help.’

“Dipper—” Wirt began, sitting up straight and unbuckling his seat belt. Dread began to set into his stomach.

Wirt kept his eyes on Dipper, even as a dark figure move in behind him and then suddenly Dipper was gone. 

A loud, high pitched scream, rang out. Wirt couldn’t tell who it came from but he knew that it was from the library.

Ignoring the fact that his job was to stay in the car, he got out of it. As quickly as he could with a casted foot, headed to into the library, leaving the car running as he went inside.   
He got inside, where it was darker than the outside world. It smelled like something rotten when he got inside like someone had set off several thousand fireworks. Sulfur and brimstone. Wirt could barely detect the second smell but he knew it was there. And smoke. Wirt could smell something smoking.

“Dipper?!” Wirt called out, “Mabel?! Pacifica!?” He didn’t hear any response. No more screams. 

He went further inside of the library, carefully stepping as he did. The library seemed to stretch on and on, the darkness and smells growing as he walked. A low whisper had begun in the air. He could hear something saying his name. 

It was like a whisper in the wind. Leading him onto the path. The world around him was pulsing and Wirt stopped.   
There was a sudden light. It was dim and low but he was grateful for it since he had run in without a flashlight.

The carpet below him was buzzing. Wirt got down on his knees and without thinking. He began to dig, pulling at the carpet. It gave away surprisingly easy.  
  


The sound of splintering wood hits her like a punch in the face. Pacifica startled and headed toward the sound. The smell of tar was so strong that she suddenly felt light-headed, the smells of sulfur and brimstone even stronger now. “Wirt?” Pacifica asked out of surprise. She approached him. “You’re supposed to be in the car, what are you doing?” She shined a flashlight on him.

He was on his knees and he was  _ digging _ into the floorboards. His breathing was ragged, his nose was bleeding profusely and his eyes were heavily bloodshot.

She looked down at his hands. 

If it’s dark under the floorboards of the library, it’s not because there’s no light. The blackness oozes up over his arms, sticking to his sleeves, and the smell is overwhelming. He leans in up to his elbows, tar leaking up and spreading over the dirty wood floor. She felt torn about whether or not she should stop him, but she’s unable to look away and unable to move.    
Steam comes off the tar, and she recognized the same black ooze that had been on the reverend. A ringing began in her ears, sounding like a guttural whine that had Pacifica slapping her ears. She winced, looking back at Wirt. “Wirt, we need to go.”    
He stood slowly, unhearing, and the tar seems hesitant to release him. Pacifica held her breath, the black splotches on him looked almost like fingers. He is eventually released, though, and stands to his full height, blood starting to drip from his chin now. One of his unfocused eyes floods red as a large hematoma spreads over the white. Pacifica stood up quickly, lights shining brightly behind her eyes when she did and she wobbled.

When she collected herself, she looked Wirt again. Wirt was standing there, holding whatever he had pulled up.   
  
In his hands is a gobby, vaguely book-shaped package, and it stinks.   
  
Wirt unwrapped the book from old, brown packing. The book is clean once it comes out of its protective covering, except where his hands were holding it. Pacifica grabs onto Wirt, ignoring the stickiness as she does.

“Wirt, come on,” she tugs him. Wirt doesn’t move for a moment and then she tugs him harder, for real this time. Now, he moves.

His eyes widen a bit and he looks at her, “Pacifica?” He asked.

“We need to get back to the car, and quick,” she pulls him again. Wirt comes with her, following her.  
  


Dipper had gotten turned around in the library when a hand came shooting for him. Dipper moved, prepared to strike before he realized just who had been trying to grab him in the dark.

"Mabel?"

“Dipper?” Mabel asked him. Dipper took a moment and stared at his sister.

“Mabel,” he breathed a sigh of relief and she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Dipper returned it.

“Where’s Pacifica? I heard her screaming.”

“I don't know. I heard you screaming. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just spooked. We need to find Pacifica and get out of here. Something’s playing with us here and I don’t like it. It’s dangerous.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Dipper agreed with her. “Let’s find Pacifica and get out of here.” 

Mabel nodded and the two of them stuck close together. They navigated the old library together now. Dipper felt better that he had his sister there, feeling a lot more centered and safe.

A light moved across them quickly and Dipper recognized the silhouette of Pacifica and Wirt before he saw them properly.

“Pacifica!” Mabel went towards her wife. Dipper followed her. He looked at Wirt and then at Pacifica.

“What’s he—?”

“I don’t know, I just found him,” Pacifica was holding onto Wirt. Both of them were covered in a dark black tar and smelled intensely of sulfur and brimstone. Wirt seemed out of it, and even in the dark light Dipper could make out the blood-red eye. “But he has the book and we need to go  _ now _ .”

Dipper hadn’t even cared about the book at that point, and just then noticed it in Wirt’s hands. Something loudly cracked and roared and Dipper looked. Bright orange flames had started to rage in the back of the library.

“Let’s go,” he told them and all four of them left the library in a rush, Pacifica practically dragging Wirt along. 

They packed themselves into the car, Mabel getting into the driver's seat before speeding off. The wheels screeched against the asphalt as they drove away, the library in flames behind them. 

Dipper looked at Wirt, who was staring at the book in his hands. “Wirt?” He wanted to ask him what he had been doing inside of there.

Wirt just handed him the book, partly covered in tar. 

_ Ἔσχατος _

It read on the front.

“Found it,” Wirt told him.

“Yeah, yeah, you did,” Dipper agreed, casting the book to the side and grabbing Wirt’s hands instead. “Are you okay?” He asked him.

“Don’t really know,” Wirt answered and Dipper lifted a hand to his face, wiping away the tar that had somehow got there. Dipper let his hand drop from his face and pressed into Wirt, ignoring the tar that was on him. Wirt wrapped his arms around his waist and just held him tightly. Dipper leaned up and pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth. 

They didn’t speak for the whole ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol sorry for the hiatus  
> im trying to finish this fic up though! i have another pinescone one coming soon but this story is gonna end soonish also  
> we're in for the long stretch yall  
> also how do u guys feel abt smut being in a story???? i usually dont add it into the actual story but if you want it i'll do it


	13. Thirteen

Once they got to the house, all four of them shambled out of the car. Mabel paused to grab the book from the back seat, since Dipper was neglecting it in favor of clinging to Wirt who was clinging right back to him. In the driveway, Maria's car was parked. It had begun to rain on the way home and the pavement under the car was wet, so she hadn't been there long.

None of them spoke until they got into the house, where Wirt instantly took off his only shoe and separated himself from Dipper.

“I'm going to go shower,” he stated. No one disagreed since he was the one covered in the most goop. Dipper didn’t see or hear Maria in the front of the house but knew that she was going to see the state of them at some point. Pacifica veered off into the kitchen, where she started to wash her hands and Dipper followed her.

The kitchen sink was wide enough that both of them got the tar off at the same time. Pacifica peeled some off where it was trying to stick to her skin, wincing the entire time. It stayed stuck underneath Dipper’s nails until he got underneath them. Both of them had red and irritated skin.

“Was that a show of her Underworld powers?” Pacifica asked.

“The librarian or the tar?”

“The tar.”

“More than likely,” Dipper grabbed a dish rag, drying off his hands and arms. He was still going to need a shower until he felt clean again but it was the most he could do for now.

“There was another ghost down in the basement near the archives,” Pacifica told him. “He didn’t do much but frighten me. And control stuff so that I could see old photos of him.” Mabel came into the kitchen, the book in her hands. She grabbed a paper towel which she wet gently, cleaning the book off to the best of her ability. It was pretty pristine already, aside from where Wirt had held it.

Dipper snorted, “That’s pretty narcissistic.”

“Maybe he missed the good old days and wanted to relish a bit in them,” Mabel commented, grinning.

“In one of the photos he had the book in his hands,” Pacifica informed the twins. She leaned back against the kitchen counter, emphasizing her point with her hands as she spoke. “He was some sort of traveling reverend, performed “miracles” in a tent and all sorts of Gideon things like that. He killed his family randomly one day when they were stopped in that town.”

Mabel looked down at the book in her hands.

  
“So we have a book that helps us out with the end of the world, controls a god, and made a man kill his family! Fun!” Mabel flipped through it. “It’s all in ancient Greek too, this is going to take a bit to translate. I’m not super good at Greek,” she twirled a strand of hair around her finger before pulling on it gently.

“I’ll help you out whenever you need,” Pacifica told her.

“Same here,” Dipper reminded Mabel. She brushed the two of them off with the wave of her hand.

“Just focus on making sure this thing doesn’t drive me insane!” She said cheerily, closing the book and heading back to the living room.

Pacifica looked at Dipper, “You know, sometimes I still can’t tell if she’s being serious or not.”

Dipper glanced to where Mabel had left the kitchen from, “Honestly? Same here.”

“Well, I’m going to go over us and make sure we didn’t get any curses or bring any Mares home with us. I’ll double reinforce the house too to avoid them from getting in,” Pacifica informed Dipper. “Whatever was in the library was ugly enough to be able to mimic us. I don’t want another Scooby Doo moment where we have to find each other between a dozen ghost,” Pacifica rolled her eyes. She pushed herself off of the counter, preparing to leave the kitchen.

“Did the reverend say anything to you when you were in the basement?” Dipper asked her.

Pacifica furrowed her brows as she thought about it. “No, I don’t think he did. Even if he did, I heard Mabel screaming before I could even give him a moment,” she raised her eyebrows. “There’s a chance he could’ve been there to let me know that Wirt found the book, but I don’t understand why he came to me in that case. Or he could’ve been just some sort of general warning, or trying to scare me. Hard to tell with spirits like that in such a quick interaction.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t go to you though if he was meant to be a warning of some sort.” Pacifica continued.

“Maybe you were just closer?” Dipper offered up.

Pacifica shrugged, “Maybe.” She said before making her own departure out of the kitchen. Dipper waited a moment before he put on the kettle, grabbing three cups from the kitchen cabinet. He didn’t have to dig around much to find some tension tamer tea.

While he was waiting for the kettle to warm up, he heard footsteps in the kitchen and turned around, seeing Maria standing there. She came into the kitchen, her hair wrapped up in a towel.

“You have something on your face,” she told him, tapping her own cheek before she licked her thumb and leaned up, rubbing it off of his skin. She frowned when it resisted more than she expected too, “What is that?” She asked when she managed to get it off.

Dipper stood there, touching where her thumb had been, a bit stunned by the motherly action. Well, she was a mom. He just hadn’t expected it for himself. “Tar,” he answered.

“How in the hell did you get tar on your face?” Maria gave him a quizzical expression.

“We went on a trip.”

Maria gave him a look all mother’s wear when their kid isn’t telling them the full truth.

“Everything’s okay, no one got hurt,” at least, Dipper hoped so. Wirt’s eye was concerning but it didn’t seem to actually bother him. They were still going to have to explain that to Wirt’s mom thought.

“Okay,” she stated, although he could tell that she wasn’t fully giving into his bullshit. “What’s Mabel translating in the living room?”

“It’s a book from ancient Greece, it’s supposed to help us deal with the goddess,” Dipper explained. The kettle began to scream and he turned his attention to it. “Do you want some?” He asked her, gesturing to the tea on the counter.

Maria shook her head. “I’m okay, thank you. Do you need help delivering these?” She looked at the three cups.

“Uhh, yeah. Sure, that one is going to Pacifica,” Dipper pointed to a cup that conveniently had a llama print all around it. Maria picked it up and headed off to wherever Pacifica was. Dipper dropped the first cup of tea off to Mabel, who had switched her contacts out for her glasses that reminded him of Ford.

She looked up at him when he set the cup down, “Thanks.”

“How are you doing so far?”

“So far it’s not that bad,” she shifted, holding the cup of tea in one of her hands. She blew on it gently before pointing with her index finger of her free hand. “Right now it just seems to be going over the standard Kronos and Olympians myth with Zeus being hailed as the almighty hero and king of the gods,” she ran her finger across the page before tapping the notebook where she was scrawling things into.

“I skipped a bit ahead and there are some symbols I’m not at all familiar with. It seems like the text gets more complicated the further in I get,” Mabel admitted, frowning up at her brother. “I should be able to find them somewhere though. This can’t be the only thing in all of the universes that we can get with this text on it.”

“I’ll search with you when I can,” he promised her.

Mabel waved him off with her hand again, “Psssh. I don’t need your help. Just spend your time snuggling up to Wirt and let me and Paz handle this.”

Dipper rolled his eyes, smiling just a bit. “Still.”

“Sure, sure,” Mabel waved him off more intensely now. “Go! Don’t let that tea get cold. Plus you’re distracting me,” she gave him a wide grin.

“‘You’re distracting me,’” Dipper mocked her as he left her space.

He went to Wirt’s room, placing the cup down on the nightstand. The water in the bathroom across from the room was still going off but it soon turned off. Dipper didn’t sit on the bed, not wanting to get the smell of tar on it.

Wirt soon came out of the bathroom, his skin pink and irritated from where the tar had stuck to it. He looked better though, less pale and less out of it. His eye was still blood red. “Hey,” Dipper greeted him. “Feeling any better?” He asked, leaning against table Wirt had in his room.

Wirt ran a towel through his hair, making the curls stick up in random directions. “A little,” he answered.

“I made you tea,” Dipper gestured over the cup. Wirt looked at it and then gave Dipper a very small smile.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Where are Mabel and Pacifica?”

“Pacifica is dotting our i’s and crossing our t’s, making sure that everything is protected and nothing followed us home. We should probably expect her to invade our personal space pretty soon. She wants to make sure nothing extra clung to us. Mabel is downstairs trying to translate that book,” Dipper caught Wirt up on the last few minutes. “Your mom went to give Pacifica some tea last time I checked, I didn’t tell her all of the details yet. I figured you might want to?”

“No,” Wirt sat on the bed before flopping onto his back, “It’s okay if you do. I might just sleep. I’m… drained.”

“You say that like you’ve never been tired before,” after something traumatic and weird, Dipper didn’t add on.

“Not this way,” Wirt waved his hands in the air, not bothering to sit up.

“‘This way?’” Dipper repeated back to him.

Wirt made a non-committal noise of confirmation before lifting his arms up. “Come here,” he told Dipper, lifting his head up.

“I smell like tar.” Dipper told him.

“I don’t care,” Wirt was still looking at him.

“Dude, I stink.”

“I don’t care,” Wirt repeated himself and held eye contact. Dipper sighed.

“It’s your grave,” he told Wirt.

“I’ve already been in there, come here,” Wirt told him again.

Dipper strode over to him and flopped down on top of him. Wirt let out a small noise from the impact but wrapped his arms around Dipper. Dipper’s nose was pressed against his chest and he shifted.

“This isn’t exactly comfortable,” he pointed out to him.

“Yep.”

“Wirt.”

“Yeah?”

“Move so we can actually be comfortable.”

“No,” Wirt just held him tighter and Dipper sighed. “I’m fine like this. Besides, I don’t really want you on the bed because you really do smell like tar.”

For that Dipper slapped Wirt’s shoulder lightly, “Well, you could’ve been patient and waited for me to shower first.”

“That sounds long and boring,” and Wirt had wanted human contact immediately. Dipper’s weight against him, the way he felt, how warm he was, his beating heart and the rise and fall of his breathing was all comforting to Wirt. He wanted to feel grounded again. He just wanted to relish in actually feeling something alive for that moment. Something that wasn’t burning and wasn’t a book.

“You said you feel drained? You could just nap while I shower,” Dipper told him.

“It’s a different type of drained,” Wirt mentioned again, although he had said it offhandedly before.

“What exactly do you mean by that?” The man atop of him shifted so that he could look at Wirt’s face properly. Wirt could see the handle of the Big Dipper poking out from underneath his bangs.

“I don’t really know how to describe it,” the worst possible time to be out of words in Wirt’s opinion. He was a writer yet still, words rested on the tip of his tongue and were unable to come forward from where they stayed there. “But after the library when I came to with the book in my hand, I just felt drained. The best I could describe it is when you get off from a long flight where you were sort of asleep but not completely and you wake up to an empty airport early in the morning.”

Dipper went silent, his eyes dark and Wirt watched as he chewed on his bottom lip just a little bit, thinking. “When we were at the library, what happened? You were supposed to stay in the car.”

“And I did. For a while anyway, but then I heard you calling me from inside so I went to check to make sure you were okay. I don’t know why I fell for it if anything you would’ve called me in that situation or come screaming out,” Wirt looked away from Dipper, feeling his cheeks warm up just a bit.

“The Mares that were in there did that to all of us. We all heard each other screaming for help and we all fell for it,” Dipper rested his head on Wirt’s chest, trying to make himself as comfortable as he could.

“I don’t really remember what happened between me entering the library and Pacifica finding me,” he admitted. “It was like I was on autopilot. I was aware of what was happening, vaguely. I can kind of imagine the details but I really don’t know what I did. It was like I wasn’t in control of my own body.”

Dipper sat up then. Placing his knees on either side of Wirt so that he was balanced, his hand on Wirt’s chest since he was still very much on the edge of the bed. It was sort of an awkward position considering that Wirt’s upper half was mainly on the bed and his legs dangled off, meaning Dipper was basically sitting on his torso. “Are you saying you were possessed?”

Wirt stared up at him. “I thought possessions would only happen with demons?”

“Sometimes it’s a demon, sometimes it’s something else entirely. Did it not feel demonic? The whole place smelled like sulfur and brimestone.”

“It didn’t feel like it was there to harm mean, it sort of felt like,” Wirt pressed his lips together as he thought about it, trying to find the best and closest example. “In the Unknown, there was this… spirit, god, I’m not really sure, but his name was Enoch. He punished us to some physical labor for stepping in some pumpkins. He wasn’t malevolant in any way, but he did feel distinctly ancient in an weird way I couldn’t place back then or even now really. It wasn’t piloting my body, not really, it felt like I was in the backseat but it was still me moving. Like it was just telling me to do or doing it itself through me with me obeying it. It told me what to do and I did it. Or it made me do it. I don’t know. It doesn’t really make sense.”

Wirt felt a tangent coming on but Dipper’s expression made him pause. Dipper slid off him without much grace.

  
“Did anything speak to you?” Dipper asked, bending down and grabbing a journal from underneath the bed. It was one of his own, covered in a pattern of the stars. He sat on the floor, beginning to scribble in the book.

“I think so. It didn’t sound like English, whatever it said was, well, for the lack of better word, ancient. It was if it was speaking to me in tongues I wasn’t meant to hear,” Wirt sat up so he could look at Dipper better. “It sounded like a poem. A triolet, maybe. You can tell it’s poetry, even if you don’t speak the language. It’s the same way that someone can hear Homer's Greek without understanding a word, and you still know it's poetry. I've heard Polish poetry and Inuit poetry, and I knew what it was without knowing.

“Whatever they were saying, it was like that. I didn't know the language, but the words washed through me. I could feel things, could feel darkness and cold, could see the way that spring flowers blossomed and I could feel the relentless shake and tremor of the earth. People with dark hair and the palest green eyes.” Wirt’s eyes became distant and Dipper leaned forward, touching his knee and bringing him back down.

“Do you think you can repeat it?”

He went silent for a moment, trying to get his mouth in order to make syllables he had never spoken before. Wirt stumbled over the words, but even when he said them they held a power that made the hair on the back of Dipper’s neck stand up. He wrote it down to the best of his ability, trying to spell it out phonetically.

“Do you remember anything else? How did your body feel after? Is that why your eye went red?” At the mention of his eye, Wirt touched it gently.

“I don’t know, maybe?” He let his hand down. “It’s definitely connected to the bloody nose though.”

“Jesus Wirt, you got possessed and we didn’t even realize,” Dipper felt stupid. It should’ve been obvious from the erratic behavior but he had been so shaken up about the whole ordeal that he didn’t even take note.

“I came back into control by the time I got the book. I don’t think it did any permanent damage, whatever it was trying to help us in some way,” Wirt offered in an attempt to reassure Dipper, he was sure. DIpper frowned at him anyway.

“A possession is still serious. They do some real damage on your body, trust me,” he couldn’t imagine what it was like being in your body still while you were possessed. When Bill had taken over he had pushed Dipper completely out.

“It was a woman,” Wirt told Dipper, stating it like it suddenly came to him. “Whoever — or whatever — took me over was a woman, I know that.”

Dipper looked at him before writing it down. “And it wasn’t her?”

“Definitely not,” Wirt picked at his nails, nervous at the mere idea of her being inside of him and no one realizing it. “But the energy was familiar somehow.”

“Probably some other goddess then, or maybe a spirit that works for them,” Dipper chewed the tip of his pen. “Can I check you for any other marks? There might be something left behind. Do you feel hurt anywhere else?” Dipper stood up, staring at Wirt who stood after a moment.

“No, as far as I can tell I’m pretty much okay. Aside from the energy thing, of course,” Wirt answered. He didn’t know what Dipper was searching for but he let him search, allowing him to look under his shirt and pants. “I didn’t see anything in the shower.”

“I don’t see anything now, either. Which is good. Sometimes once you’re possessed by something it likes to leave a little stamp to let other things know it’s yours, although that might’ve helped us in this situation.”

“Or make things worse,” Wirt pulled his shirt back on from where it had been tossed on the bed.

“Or make things worse,” Dipper repeated, agreeing with a small nod. “I’m going to talk to Mabel, you should—”

“Go talk to Pacifica?” Wirt guessed.

“Yeah,” Dipper gave him a fleeting smile, looking surprised but fond for a moment. “Go talk to Pacifica.”

He went to leave but paused, “And next time you hear something whispering to you, you tell me immediately afterward. We’re trying to make sure you’re not possessed at the end of the day,” Dipper pointed his pen at him, scolding him.

Wirt shrugged in response.

Dipper left the room going to his sister. She was still buried deep inside of her books, trying to piece the puzzles together. Her tea was finished and her hair had been pushed out of her face by a headband covered with swirly suns.

She looked up when he stepped into her space. “What’s up?” She asked him, popping her ‘p.’

“Wirt was possessed and I neglected to notice,” Dipper told her.

“Wait, what? How long has he been possessed? Is he still possessed? I don’t know if an exorcism is a good idea right now considering how valuable his body is—”

“When Pacifica found him he had been possessed. That apparently broke it, but he’s going to get double checked by her,” Dipper interrupted Mabel.

She sighed, “Good. That’s good. I was beginning to wonder if he had developed some sort of psychic power right then at that moment.”

“It might be some sort of connection, or at least a temporary one that was set up. He said it was like being a backseat driver but he was still aware of what was going on and it was like he was being fed instructions,” Dipper pointed to the notebook and she took it from him.

“What’s that?” Mabel pointed at the phonetic words.

“She spoke to him, we think it’s another goddess that’s related to her in some way. Or maybe some spirit sent by someone. That’s what it said,” he explained.

Mabel sounded the words out, they felt heavy and unfamiliar in her mouth. It was oddly lovely but left Mabel feeling that something was missing.

“It’s a poem,” he added. “A triolet, specifically. I’m going to see if I can record him saying it and send it forward to Jean. He may have some sort of idea what it says.”

“While we’re on the topic of translating, these symbols are incredibly close to ancient Greek but they’re not quite right. It’s a code in a dead language no one speaks anymore and we don’t have the clues for it,” Mabel let out an annoyed huffed. “You’re good with puzzles, you take this on.” She slid it over to him. “I can deal with Jean.”

“What? Mabel, you can’t dump your work on me,” Dipper looked at her as she stood up and stretched.

“I’m going to make more tea. Do you want anything?” She asked, ignoring him.

“Mabel!” She went into the kitchen and Dipper looked down at the book and her papers before glancing at his own notes.

He wondered if the poem was in the book, somewhere deep inside. Dipper began flipping through the pages, trying to find the cipher that would answer all of their questions. Mabel came back eventually, setting down a cup of tea for him before she sat back down next to him. “How far are you?”

“Barely even started. Ancient Greek is already difficult enough since we don’t really know how it was spoken.”

“Mmmmmhmmmm, do you see what you left me with bro? Do you see this mess?” Mabel gestured to the book.

Dipper rolled his eyes at her.

“Wirt should take a look at it,” he said.

“You think whatever possessed him or whatever left a hint to help decipher this?”

“It left him with a poem, right?” Dipper shrugged, “Maybe he’ll be able to recognize subconsciously.”

“Maybe. I sent some pics over to Candy and Grenda to see if they could find something on it too.”

“Good idea. Do you know where Pacifica is? Wirt’s bound to be with her,” Dipper looked at her sister.

“You’re such a clingy boyfriend,” Mabel grinned. “Last time I saw her Maria was showing her Greg’s dad’s garden out back,” she took a sip of her tea as she gestured to the sliding glass doors that led to the back yard.

“He’s not my— Mabel, we have different things to focus on,” Dipper frowned at her.

“Oookay. I just think it’s cute how much you guys cuddle. And talk. And share a bed. Have you guys kissed yet?”

“And I’m done. If you find anything else out let me know, okay?” Dipper grabbed his cup and started to head to the doors.

“You already know I will! And try to shower sometime today, you smell!” Mabel craned her head so that she could look at him.

Dipper didn’t turn around to look at her. “I’m too busy to shower right now,” he mumbled it to himself. He exited out the back doors and closed them both behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would like yall to know i got up at 5:00 AM today and have to get up at 7:30 tomorrow but i wanted to post this (it's almost 12 am lol)  
> anyway i know it says 17 chapters rn but it might turn out to be more because chapters are getting shorter but that's because i'm trying not to shove things in all together at once  
> idk im gonna play it by ear, but the 17 is staying up for now in case my original plan comes through  
> im sorry if this chapter sounds very confusing and convoluted but i wanted to keep up with the atmosphere with the poem and stuff also my writing is (wack) right now, if something is unreadable please tell me and i'll try to fix it


	14. Fourteen

Like Mabel had said, Maria, Pacifica, and Wirt were out in the garden. Wirt was leaning against one of his crutches, watching Pacifica and Maria work together. He tucked the book under his arm and went to stand next to Wirt.

“How's it going?” Dipper asked them.

“Almost all of the house perimeters have been reinforced,” Pacifica said. “Did Mabel figure out anything with the book?”

Dipper shook his head. “Actually,” he looked over at Wirt. “We were wondering if you could take a look at it.”

Wirt blinked out of surprise, “Why me? I can barely speak Spanish.”

“That was your father's fault, ” Maria piped up, standing from where she was on the ground.

“Yes mom,” Wirt sighed, this was a conversation that they've had a hundred times before, “I know.”

Maria mumbled something underneath her breath, wiping the dirt from her hands.

“I think you'll be able to glean a lot more from this than us,” Dipper looked over at Maria, unsure of how much she knew now. He didn't know if Wirt would tell her about everything that happened.

He looked back over to Wirt who had an expression of uncertainty, “I can try.”

Dipper handed the book over to him and Wirt took it. He awkwardly opened it with one hand, glancing over it before closing it and just holding the book.

“What's in the book?” Maria asked.

“It's going to help us figure things out,” Wirt told his mom, omitting the full truth. Maria gave him a skeptical glance. When it seemed that Wirt wasn't going to elaborate, Maria finally looked away.

“Is there anything else I can help out with?” Maria asked Pacifica who shook her head.

“You've already been a great help. Thank you,” she smiled at the older woman who returned a smile in kind. Maria went back inside after that and Pacifica turned to Dipper. “Everything out here is done, we can head inside.” She told him, waving her hand casually. There was some dirt streaked onto her cheek and her hair was a bit tousled.

Wirt had the book under his arm still and looked at Dipper and Pacifica. “I think I might stay out here, actually.”

“Are you sure? It's freezing,” Pacifica gave Wirt an almost judgemental glance, unable to fathom why he would want to stay out in the North Eastern cold.

“Yeah. Yeah, I like the… fresh air,” Wirt gave Pacifica a lopsided smile that she blinked at for a moment. Her shoulders then relaxed before she shrugged.

“Okay. Have fun getting frostbite then,” Pacifica said dryly but gave Wirt one last glance before turning to walk inside. “Are you coming, Dipper?” She asked.

Dipper shook his head. “I think I'll stay out here a bit longer,” he told her. Pacifica mumbled something underneath her breath about them being weird before she headed inside.

“You don't have to stay put here, you know.” Wirt shuffled a bit, walking over to a small fire out in the backyard. It was far away from the grass and surrounded by rocks, a clear add in by the family. Dipper followed him, grimacing a little when his ass touched the cold stone bench that surrounded the pit.

“I know, but I think it's nice out. Plus, I figured you might want some company,” Dipper sheepishly smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. Mabel was right, he was pretty clingy. He didn't think he could be faulted in this scenario though (still, clingy was clinch and he followed Wirt like a lost puppy).

Wirt smiled at him, propping his foot up on a large rock near him. “When Greg and I were younger, after the Unknown, we would camp out here. A lot of the time we would make sure the sprinklers were off, but there were a few times where we were woken up by them.

“You can see the stars pretty nicely here, past the trees. Plus half of our backyard is a literal hiking trail so it's not hard to find nice spots.”

Dipper nodded, understanding the concept. “Mabel and I used to do the same. Sometimes it was because we missed Gravity Falls, missed hearing nature all around us. Other times I think both of us felt too suffocated by our house, it reminded us of being captured in some shape and form. We didn't really get to see the stars though, which sucked. I think it would’ve been better that way.” Dipper tipped his head up to the sky, where the moon was beginning to show, rising as the sun fell.

“I think we felt suffocated too. We spent nights sleeping outside in the Unknown, no doubt we missed it. Sometimes, I think we still do.” Wirt kept his eyes on Dipper's face. Dipper was focused on the stars, but dropped his gaze and met Wirt's after a few stretching moments of silence.

“Should I light the fire pit?” Dipper asked him.

Wirt smiled gently, his cheeks and nose red from the cold already and his hands were struggling to hide in his sleeves by then. “Yeah, firewood should be on the back porch. I'm guessing it's safe to assume you know how to light a fire?”

“Are you kidding me? Grunkle Stan made it clear that arson was always an option.”

“Are you serious?” Wirt blinked in surprise. Dipper grinned, standing and going to get firewood. “Wait, Dipper! Are you serious?!” Wirt called after him and Dipper just laughed.

  
As soon as the fire was lit, Wirt practically all but stuck his hands in it. Dipper sat next to him now, close enough to where they could feel each others body heat. Dipper leaned into Wirt, watching the fire crackle and dance on the logs.

The book sat in Wirt's lap, unopened since Dipper had handed it to him. Wirt was tentative, almost afraid, to open the book. He didn't want to see what the others couldn't it because then it would all be on him, wouldn't it? To save his own life and who knows what else.

But the book was in his lap and Wirt wanted to open it. The sun had set and he only had the fire and moonlight to read by it now. His fingers inched toward it, but he stopped himself, considered the book for a moment. Dipper shifted next to him, watching, waiting. He didn't say anything though, which was a relief to Wirt.

A log cracked under the fire, the noise startling Wirt and by proxy, Dipper. A rogue spark had flown towards them before it was carried away by the wind.

Wirt looked back down at the book and finally opened it.

Inside there was ancient Greek. Characters that Wirt couldn't understand. There were some familiar but most were not.

He continued to flip through it, carefully pausing on pages to try and see if it sparked anything. The characters just seemed like that to him, random characters that made no sense. The fire crackled again as he flipped through the pages.

He stopped, then. Squinting down at the page, Wirt couldn't read what was written but he knew it. It was familiar to him. The stanzas, the meter. Wirt recognized the poem although he couldn't read it. A poem was a poem after all.

“You know what it is?” Dipper asked, noticing how Wirt lingered on the page, his fingers tracing over the words.

“It's the poem,” Wirt explained and Dipper looked up at him, a glimmer of excitement and hope in his eyes. “I can’t read it, though,” Wirt told him, watching as Dipper’s shoulders sagged as he didn’t even bother to hide the disappointment.

“Shit,” Dipper cursed, “That’s fine. Grenda and Candy are bound to come up with something.” Dipper had no idea what was the use with finding the book if it wasn’t even going to be used to help them.

Wirt kept the book in his lap, shutting it and just resting his hands atop of it. The fire crackled and he leaned into Dipper, fully aware of what he was doing. He rested his head on Dipper’s shoulder. Dipper, almost automatically, wrapped his arm around Wirt and gently carded his fingers through his hair. He tenderly played with the strands there and Wirt closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax for just a moment.

  
He stared into the fire, watching it grow and breathe. He was still physically aware of Dipper’s fingers in his hair, of the other's body next to him and how warm and comforting it was. Yet his eyes stayed fixated on the fire, and he could hear nothing else but the sound of it crackling. The fire danced and warped, watching as the bright hues of red and orange turned into a bright green. The center was darker, as with a normal fire. It spread out into a hellfire shade of green before finishing up at the edges with lime colored sparks.

It was no longer cold outside. He couldn’t hear the rustling of the leaves, or of any wind at all. Outside of the bright green glow of the fire, there was just darkness. Darkness and nothing else, consuming darkness that if he stared too long into, was almost impossible to look away from. Wirt blinked but didn’t move, the physical sensation of Dipper still there but Wirt was aware that he wasn’t there. Or at least, Wirt wasn’t there. Moving seemed to be a bad idea so he sat there instead, focusing on the fire instead of the darkness.

The air was hot and humid, almost too difficult for him to breathe.

Wirt startled when he heard the sound of footsteps coming closer and closer. The feet were bare and slapped against the rock that formed the ground. He didn’t turn around to face whatever was there but he knew the energy well enough, was familiar with who it was. Or rather, who she was.

His heart jumped into his throat and his breathing became more shallow.

“Hello,” it was the strongest he had ever heard her voice, but it still held a wispy tone as if it would be carried far away by the winds.

Wirt stayed silent, he didn’t think he could respond even if he wanted to. She came closer to him and he could feel the amount of power emitting from her, even as she stood behind him. “I see you found my book,” her voice was right in his ear now. Her hair brushed against his cheek and the feeling of her breath made goosebumps rise.

“I can still feel traces on you as well. The Muses should know better than to interfere but count that time lucky. I doubt you’ll be whispered to by Clio again,” the Goddess of Ghost and Nightmares spoke casually as if she was talking to an old friend and not someone that she intended to possess. “Of course, I have to thank her too. There’s a chink in you now, very small, very fragile,” she was grinning. He couldn’t see the smile but he knew it was there. A predatory grin that reminded Wirt of a ravenous lion who had turned on his pride.

“And after all that effort from the others to keep you safe,” she clicked her tongue. “Such a shame since your walls are already down.”

“After all, how else could I speak to you, _Wirt_?”

  
“--irt? Hey, Wirt!”

A sudden rush of air filled his lungs and Wirt stared at the fire that had red flames once again. His heart was beating in his chest.

“Wirt,” he looked up at the fire to the cause of the whiny voice, seeing Greg pouting in front of him. Dipper’s arm hand had rested on Wirt’s waist now, the fingers out of his hair. “I asked you a question.”

“Sorry, Greg. When did you get home?” He was surprised by how level his voice was. He focused on Greg now, missing the concerned look that Dipper had given him.

“Like, five minutes ago.” Greg sat down on the bench across from Wirt and Dipper. “I asked if you guys were going to make s’mores?” Wirt was pretty sure that wasn’t Greg’s original question, not if the concerned expression was anything to go by. “You haven’t answered me still.”

“Sorry, I was zoned out,” Wirt told him. “Got lost in thought I guess, I was thinking about a poem.”

“A poem?” Greg’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah. Guess the fire sparked some inspiration in me,” he lied too easily.

“Hey, no puns,” Dipper poked Wirt in the side resulting in an embarrassing squeak. Wirt slapped his hand away.

“I didn’t mean — ugh, pun not intended,” Wirt rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to his brother. “We’ll make s’mores if you go to the store and get the stuff for them,” he told Greg.

Greg pouted, something he would definitely deny and something he might not ever grow out of despite his age. “I asked you because I didn’t want to go to the store. I just got home,” Greg groaned, tossing his head back dramatically before letting out a long noise of annoyance.

“You should’ve planned ahead of time. You know we don’t have anything for s’mores, you could’ve stopped on your way home from school.”

“But I didn’t want s’mores until I saw that you started the fire pit.”

“That sucks.”

“Wiiirrrt.”

“Greg,” he held his brother’s eyes. He wasn’t budging on this. He didn’t think that he could stand up without falling instantly. “You should probably hurry to the store if you want to make s’mores before the fire dies,” Wirt poked at the fire with a long stick, shifting logs the best he could.

“Fine,” Greg stood up, “You’re the worst brother ever, not taking sympathy on your younger, still growing brother who needs substance to survive.”

“I don’t think your survival depends on marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers,” Wirt said, putting on a mock expression of concern. “I’m so sorry for starving you all these years. How do I make up the fact that I’ve been starving my own baby brother?” Wirt turned to Dipper before pretending to swoon from overwhelming emotion, dramatically laying himself across Dipper’s lap.

“Shh!” Greg gave him a glare as he started to leave, but any venom was taken out of it from the grin on his face that he wasn’t able to smother.

“You shh!” Wirt retorted before going back to his fainting act.

Dipper laughed, the noise was deep and rumbling from where Wirt was. Wirt looked up at him, ignoring the awkward angle he was at. His face was orange from the reflection of the flames and Wirt thought of the green fire, seeing it there for a moment before he blinked. Dipper looked down at him, a clear question there.

He knew well enough that explaining what he saw to Dipper wouldn’t be very hard. Dipper would probably panic when Wirt told him what happened. Wirt knew that there was nothing neither of them could do about this situation, this time around. He felt suddenly that time was running out and that he couldn’t hide from it anymore. And maybe, just maybe, not saying something for once would work out for the better. At least, for the rest. Wirt wasn’t sure if it was still true for himself. But staying quiet on this would probably be for the best.

She hadn’t mentioned anything about harming anyone near him, but Wirt couldn’t take that risk.

  
Wirt had seemed as if he was 100 miles away when Greg had first walked outside. His brother hadn’t even budged when he came and didn’t respond to Greg’s initial question. But any trace that something was wrong seemed to be gone since Wirt was joking and acting like things were fine, but Dipper wondered if they were. Where had Wirt gone then?

In the darkness, Wirt’s red eye seemed almost black, especially given the angle he was at. Dipper ran his fingers through Wirt’s hair again. Wirt hadn’t moved from where he laid in Dipper’s lap, even though it couldn’t be comfortable given what they were sitting on. Wirt was looking back at him, his eyes flickered down for a moment before meeting Dipper’s eyes again. Very slowly, he leaned down a bit more.

“Do you know anything about green fire?” Wirt asked, almost blurting it out and Dipper paused.

“Bill’s fire was, or is, blue. I don’t know anything about green fire,” Dipper admitted. “Why?”

A look crossed on Wirt’s face that he had no hope in figuring out. “I was just wondering,” Wirt answered him, keeping it vague. The vagueness was enough to make Dipper frown but he didn’t press on.

“Where did you go earlier?” Dipper asked him, “When Greg first came outside you were gone.” He played with Wirt’s bangs and Wirt frowned but leaned into Dipper’s hand, looking incredibly content as Dipper continued his hair playing and turned into head scratching.

“I’m not really sure myself,” Wirt answered, something about it made Dipper aware was the best he was going to get out of him.

“Are you okay?”

A pause before Wirt nodded. “Yeah, I think for right now I am.”

The word choices of “for right now” made Dipper pause and frown a bit but he ignored that too. He wondered if it was too much catching up to Wirt right now. He suddenly felt guarded in a way that Dipper was unsure with dealing with. It felt like Dipper was on eggshells and it was weird because he didn’t think there was ever a time where, for as little as he knew Wirt, that he felt like he had tread carefully.

“Okay,” Dipper says even though it’s not okay. He just continued to play with Wirt’s hair and Wirt closed his eyes, relaxing underneath Dipper’s touch.

Dipper leaned down and pressed a kiss to Wirt’s cheek. One of Wirt’s eyes opened, his good one, and Wirt shifted a bit. “Hey,” Wirt began before a slow thud made both Wirt and Dipper jump. Dipper looked over, seeing that the book had fallen off of Wirt’s lap.

Wirt sat up slowly. He grabbed the book and set it to the side, making sure that it didn’t get ruined by the grass and dirt.

“How far away is the store?” Dipper asked, watching Wirt.

Wirt stuck the tip of his tongue out, thinking for a moment. “I think it’s about five minutes? Greg’s definitely bound to get distracted when he’s there though so I say we have another fifteen minutes before he gets back,” Wirt answered, looking at Dipper.

The complete topic changed brought Wirt back to where Dipper felt comfortable treading.

He could work with fifteen minutes. Going by Wirt’s expression, he knew that Wirt had the same thought.

This time, they both leaned in. Wirt’s hand covered his and Dipper got momentarily distracted when he saw the freckles on Wirt’s face. They were faint and dotted along his nose. He looked at Wirt’s mouth, his lips were a bit dry and then he looked back up at Wirt.

Wirt was the one to close the distance between the two of them. It was a very soft and very warm kiss. Dipper drew Wirt closer, gently pulling him in by wrapping his arms around his waist, resulting by a very small gasp from Wirt. The sound made Dipper’s own breath stutter. Wirt’s eyelashes fluttered gently against Dipper’s cheek as they kissed and something in his chest felt akin to a dam bursting open after months of rain building within it, the foundations cracking.

Wirt kissed him harder and tried to move even closer to Dipper, almost placing himself back in his lap.

“YOU GOT MARSHMALLOWS!?” Mabel’s very excited yell from inside the house made the two of them jump apart. Wirt was still holding Dipper’s hand when their siblings came out, Mabel bouncing next to Greg almost excited as Greg was.

“I got the stuff for s’mores!” Greg’s grin was wide across his face and he ran up to the fire, Mabel following him. Pacifica stood at the edge of the door with a cup of something in her hands, staring at them for a moment before deciding to go outside with them.

“It’s cold out here,” Pacifica sat down next to Mabel by the fire.

“That’s why there’s a fire,” Mabel rolled her eyes. “Were you guys going to tell us you were going to make s’mores or did we have to find out by Greg?” She turned her eyes on the two of them. They flickered down for a moment, landing on their joined hands. They tend trailed up to their faces and Dipper glared at her. She grinned, very pleased. Dipper felt the primal urge to tackle her before she said something stupid.

“Actually, we didn’t have s’mores plans until Greg came home,” Wirt spoke before Mabel could.

“If you light a fire pit, you should automatically assume that you’re going to make s’mores,” Mabel gestured to the fire. “Give me the sugar,” she took the bag from Greg, rifling through it already and getting out all of the s’mores supplies.

She gasped excitedly, “You got the good marshmallows too!”

“Do we have anything to actually cook the marshmallows on?” Pacifica asked.

“It’s not ‘cook,’ it’s roast,” Mabel corrected.

“They basically mean the same thing.”

“Not when it comes to s’mores.”

The two of them bickered quietly. “We have those prongs still, right?” Wirt asked Greg.

“Yeah, I think so anyway. I couldn’t find them,” Greg admitted with a sheepish smile.

“I’ll go find them. Mom probably tucked them away somewhere where you can’t find them,” Wirt stood up, not letting go of Dipper’s hand which caused him to stand too.

“Why would she do that?” Greg frowned.

“What did you do to the sticks last time,” it wasn’t a question, he knew the answer.

“You were doing it too!” Greg defended himself.

“I did not,” Wirt steadfastly denied what Greg said, even with his mumblings. He took that as their sign to leave, the two of them not letting go of each other's hands even though Dipper would be able to walk faster than Wirt.

When he and Dipper had gotten to the kitchen, Wirt immediately looked into a drawer that he knew Greg had never once looked inside of.

“What did Greg do to them?” Dipper asked, watching as Wirt rifled through the drawer.

“He stuck them in the fire until they were red hot and then would just press them down into the snow,” Wirt recalled from the last time they had used the fire pit to actually make s’mores. He was pretty sure the most use it got was during the summer when Greg’s friends came over now.

“Oh, I’ve done that,” Dipper nodded his understanding to Greg’s side. “It’s a lot of fun to watch the snow just melt.”

“Yeah but it annoyed our mom,” Wirt let out a small ‘ah-hah!’ when he found the skewers for the marshmallows. He handed them to Dipper who took them before they headed back outside, returning to the others who were discussing something animatedly but hushed into giggles when the two of them rejoined. Wirt didn’t want to know what they were talking about but Dipper spent at least 15 minutes trying to get them to speak.

  
Wirt stared into the bathroom mirror later that night. He was sure that he had brushed all of the sugar from his teeth but lingered still. Seeing his reflection he couldn’t help but wince. His eye was hideous, for one thing, and Wirt was incredibly pale, paler than he had been his entire life.

Reflected from the bathroom light in the mirror was a small ball, bright, yellow ball. In the ball, he saw a yellow fire before witnessing it grow. Small fires upon a winding river, green, yellow, blue, and red. Fires that mixed together to create one giant flame that spectors rose out of.

He let out a startled gasp, blinking as the fires went away. Someone knocked on the door.

“Wirt? Are you done? I need to pee,” Greg’s voice through the door startled him.

“Yeah. Sorry,” he opened the bathroom door and smiled at the sleepy Greg. “All yours,” he told him, stepping aside. Greg went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Wirt stared at the door for a moment before going to his room. There was nervous energy buzzing in him now that he was itching at, making him feel a bit overwhelmed.

Dipper was already in bed, trying to figure out the codes within the book once again. He was nibbling on a pen, an open notebook next to him.

“Find anything?” Wirt asked, crawling into bed next to him. He was careful not to disturb anything Dipper was doing.

“No,” Dipper let out a frustrated sigh. “Still nothing.”

Wirt frowned and looked at the notes. “You’re getting somewhere,” he noticed the scribblings of words and letters. It seemed like Dipper was at least starting to crack the code.

“Those aren’t working,” Dipper admitted.

“Well, shit.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Dipper looked down at the pages in front of him. He chewed even more on the pencil, so much so that Wirt worried that he might cause it to burst.

Wirt gently moved the book out of the way, marking the spot Dipper was at. “Hey!” Dipper’s frustration turned to him and Wirt ignored that, leaning in and kissing Dipper for the second time. Dipper melted with the kiss, clicking the pencil close and kissing back soundly.

It was a gentle kiss at first. And then with a swift gradation of intensity that made Dipper dizzy. He clung onto Wirt as if he was the only solid thing around, clinging to him to stop the world from spinning behind his eyelids. Wirt’s insistent mouth was parting his lips, a small nip on the bottom of Dipper’s lip increasing the world spinning effect. Wirt’s tongue slipped into his mouth, gentle but demanding.

Dipper buried his fingers into Wirt’s hair, pulling gently. Wirt groaned a low, deep groan that came from his throat. His hands found the edges of Dipper’s shirt but made no move, just tugging and holding on tightly as if he needed Dipper there to ground him as much as Dipper needed him.

Letting up wasn’t an intention Wirt had but the air was a thing they both needed desperately at this point and so he pulled away. Resting his forehead against Dipper’s, he looked down at him in the eyes. “Hi,” Dipper said, his voice hoarse and his eyes soft.

“Hey,” Wirt smiled at him.

“What was that for?”

“Mabel interrupted us earlier,” Wirt replied, shifting. Dipper laid under the bedsheets, oppose to Wirt who remained on top.

“Hm,” Dipper hummed, looking at Wirt with a deeply fond expression that had Wirt’s face flushing red. Dipper tilted his head up, connecting their lips again. The kiss was shorter and this time they both parted, “God, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ages.”

“Why didn’t you?” Wirt asked him. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“There’s a lot going on right now,” Dipper waved his hand flippantly, “I was worried that it might be too much.”

“I think I prefer us being on kissing status,” Wirt smirked.

“Me too,” Dipper agreed. And for the fourth time that night, he kissed Wirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god. it took them WAY FUCKING LONGER THAN I PLANNED

**Author's Note:**

> Wow hey this is my first OTGW/GF fic (I have another OTGW solely OTGW fic that's in the works) and also my first time writing for these two dorks. It's a small ship, I need more content. Sorry if things are slow or seem odd? There's a lot of headcanons going into this, and I'm not used to writing these characters that much. Please tell me if anything seems OOC! Also these are going to be unbetad for the most part but not unedited.
> 
> Title from a song by Danny Schmidt  
> trans-riot.tumblr.com  
> electricpurity on instagram


End file.
